


Harry Potter and the Odour of the Pheromones

by KatesBrain, Magicofisis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Chan, Comedy, Dubious Consent, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-05
Updated: 2006-07-05
Packaged: 2018-10-27 08:52:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatesBrain/pseuds/KatesBrain, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicofisis/pseuds/Magicofisis
Summary: Authors: Sheepybunbuns and Magic of IsisHarry is bribed to be a potion-tester for Fred and George, and finds that the side effects can be very advantageous. Even though Harry hopes to use the potion on his best friend, he can’t help but be a little distracted…- originally posted March 2005





	1. Chapter 1

  
Author's notes: Author's Notes: **Harry’s ‘Distractions’ (in alphabetical order):** Sirius Black (AU – we let him live), Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Remus Lupin, Draco Malfoy, Bill Weasley, Charlie Weasley, George Weasley, Ron Weasley, Oliver Wood, Blaise Zabini. Other characters may also appear in a voyeuristic capacity ;-)  
 **Additional bonus pairing:** Dobby/Trousers (cameo)  
 **Words:** 42,288  
 **Disclaimer:** The Harry Potter Universe belongs to the goddess, JK Rowling, and several major corporations. We just send her characters to The Bad Place.  
 **Author’s Notes:** We started this for our own entertainment, and we hope that what we’ve ended up with amuses you as well.  
 **Warnings:** Harry is sixteen. The story involves dubious consent, cross-generational sex, more dubious consent, coercion, bondage, potion-induced sex, some more dubious consent, rimming, bribery-induced sex, more mild bondage and voyeurism.  
Features Exhibitionist!Harry (Kate wants to call him Slut!Harry, but Sue insists that he _does_ have some standards – Kate would like to add that sluttiness is in the eye of the beholder…)  


* * *

ETA this additional disclaimer: Mrs Weasley's trifle is not to be taken as representative of the general standard of trifles within the UK ;-)  
  
  
  
**  
  
“Ron, you can help me set up the table,” Mrs Weasley said as she directed an assortment of bubbling saucepans that were on the stove. “And Harry, would you please go upstairs and tell the twins that dinner is nearly ready?”  
  
Harry nodded and trudged up the stairs of Grimmauld Place, deep in thought. Well, he _told_ himself he was deep in thought; in fact, he was actually sulking.  
  
He had been _trying_ to sulk ever since he left Privet Drive, but it had been hard to do when in the company of his best friend, whom he didn’t dare tell the whole reason why he was moping so much. Sulking at Privet Drive had been a different matter. It had been so easy to glare and fume at the Dursleys when they refused to let him leave the house all summer, knowing they weren’t interested in why it was such a disappointment for him.  
  
It wasn’t as though he didn’t like being able to see Ron and Hermione over the holidays, but this time next week, he would be back at Hogwarts for his final year and his plans for the summer had been left by the wayside – all because Dumbledore didn’t want him out of anyone’s sight. His every move had been monitored, and even when he managed to slip past the Dursleys that one time, Dumbledore had shown up and quickly escorted him back to the house, telling him that they couldn’t risk anything happening to him. There was nothing that Harry could have done, bar admitting to his headmaster that he wanted to go out and try a few things that he wasn’t going to even mention, let alone do, to the other boys at Hogwarts.  
  
Last summer, Harry had come across a few individuals who hung around outside the public toilets by the park, and one of them had made Harry a very surprising offer; the boy in question had offered to suck Harry off, and it took a few moments for Harry to realise what had been meant by those words. He had balked at the idea and quickly left the park, but he’d since had a whole year to obsess about it and to admit to himself that the suggestion really intrigued him.  
  
So this year, he had hoped to go back to those public toilets, to experiment and make sure that he was interested in boys – before he made an idiot of himself in front of his best mate by asking Ron if he might like to do some of those things with him.  
  
As Harry approached the door to the twins’ bedroom, the sound of Fred’s voice brought him out of his internal moping.  
  
“I think we should add a bit of mandrake root.”  
  
“Do you really think it’s necessary?” George replied. “Perhaps we should just wait a few more days to let it ferment. The potency might increase on its own anyway.”  
  
“But it’s already been a week, and the mandrake is bound to help.”  
  
“I’m not sure it won’t affect the properties of the other ingredients, though.”  
  
“We could put a vial to one side, and then add the mandrake to the rest.”  
  
Shaking his head in amusement, Harry knocked. The door opened a crack, and Fred peeked out. Once he saw Harry, Fred beamed and dragged Harry into the room.  
  
“Just what we need: a test subject!”  
  
“What? I… Dinner’s nearly ready,” Harry stammered, trying to make an exit from the room before he was recruited, but Fred held him fast.  
  
“We’ve developed a new product—” Fred said.  
  
“But we’re both allergic to one of the ingredients—” George continued.  
  
“And seeing as you’re our silent partner, we thought you might like to help us to sort out the details.”  
  
“I don’t want to be your guinea-pig.”  
  
“Oh, come on, Harry. It’s perfectly safe. We just need to make sure it’s strong enough.”  
  
“We’ll do you a favour in return,” George added suggestively.  
  
“Like what?” Harry asked, narrowing his eyes when he saw Fred and George give each other a sly smile.  
  
“Well, for a start,” George said, “we won’t point out to Ron just how you’ve been ogling him since you’ve arrived here. He might be completely oblivious, but we’re not.”  
  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry immediately said, but blanched when he realised the twins weren’t having any of it. “You’re going to blackmail me.”  
  
“Now that’s not a very nice way of putting it, Harry. I’d rather think of it as helping you to keep your secret.” George wrapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze before adding, “You have no idea how jealous I am right now of my baby brother. I’ve always had a… certain appreciation for you, Harry.”  
  
Harry could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and he glanced nervously between Fred and George, wondering if Fred was about to come on to him as well. But to his relief, Fred put paid to that thought right away.  
  
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m straight. But I’ll be willing to keep your secret, too.”  
  
Both George and Fred were staring pointedly at him now, waiting for Harry’s agreement. He knew he didn’t actually have much choice in the matter, and finally, he asked, “What’s the potion for?”  
  
“It’s Weasley’s Anti-Pheromone Potion,” Fred said, handing over a piece of parchment that was covered in rough notes and seemed to be a draft advertisement for the potion.  
  
  
 _Fed up with someone bragging how attractive they are?_ __  
Does your best friend’s ego need taking down a peg or two?  
Then we say “build them up and then knock ‘em down” with the help of Weasley’s Anti-Pheromone Potion.

__

 

__

 

_Just a dash of this in their drink will lure admirers to them by the score.  
But when those admirers get too close, then repulsion will become the order of the day!_  
  
  
Harry cringed at the thought of having his pheromones tweaked experimentally.  
  
“How long does it last?”  
  
“A couple of hours, at most,” George said with a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry; if it works, everyone downstairs will just assume you need a bath.”  
  
Reluctantly, Harry reached out and took the vial that Fred was holding out to him. The liquid inside was a pale yellow and thick like syrup. He swallowed it and gagged as it clung to the back of his throat; it certainly didn’t taste like syrup. If anything, it tasted like Mrs Weasley’s fruit trifle, which was something he had had to endure on several occasions this holiday.  
  
“It’s disgusting,” Harry complained as Fred walked to the other side of the room and began sniffing in earnest.  
  
“It’s not strong enough. All I can smell is something cheesy, but that might just be your socks, George.”  
  
George, who still had his arm draped across Harry’s shoulders, bent his head down to the crook of Harry’s neck and inhaled deeply. Harry jumped in shock and tried to pull away, but in response, George tightened his hold and merely pushed his nose closer, brushing it gently against Harry’s skin.  
  
“Hmm, I can’t smell anything much,” he breathed, sending goose bumps up Harry’s spine. “Certainly nothing pongy.” Drawing back to look Harry in the eye, George asked, “Have you ever kissed a bloke, Harry?”  
  
Harry nervously shook his head. No matter how much he tried to tell himself that it wasn’t right, he had to admit that the prospect of kissing George at that moment was very appealing.  
  
“Would you like to?” George asked again. “Just to know what it’s like, of course. Think of it as a thank-you for being our test-subject.”  
  
Before Harry had a chance to reply, George was lowering his face and brushing their lips together. Tentatively, Harry kissed back, pressing his mouth harder against George’s, his arms hanging limply by his sides.  
  
It was slightly off-putting to hear Fred chuckling in the background, but it wasn’t enough to make Harry pull away. Kissing George was very nice indeed. There was a slight bristling sensation around his mouth from the stubble on George’s face, and when George’s tongue slipped between his lips, Harry licked at it hungrily, tasting the sweet tang of butterbeer. George raised a hand to cup Harry’s face, and Harry shivered, leaning into the warm palm against his cheek.  
  
Harry was enjoying it so much that it came as a bit of a shock when he suddenly heard Ron’s voice calling from the hallway.  
  
“Harry, Fred, George, where are you? Mum’s dishing up.”  
  
Harry jerked away from George just as Ron opened the door. He hung his head guiltily, knowing that his face was bright red and hoping that Ron wouldn’t have the sense to work out what they’d just been doing.  
  
“What’s going on?” Ron asked, looking from one to the other.  
  
“Harry’s just testing a potion for us, ickle Ronniekins,” George said with a smile and handing over the parchment so that Ron could read it, before turning back to Harry. “We’ll get back to you once we’ve worked out how to increase the potency.”  
  
**  
  
Worried that the potion might suddenly start working and he’d have to make a quick exit, at dinnertime Harry had sat at the end of the table that was nearest the door. Ron had sat next to him and was unusually quiet throughout the meal. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Ron frequently glancing at him, and it seemed that Ron was trying to do this surreptitiously. This left Harry wondering if the potion had started to get stronger, but not once throughout the meal did anyone complain about the smell.  
  
For Harry’s part, he had spent the time studiously not looking at George. He was certain that if George were to catch his eye, there would be no stopping the blush that would appear on his cheeks. He knew that their kiss would be making a regular appearance in any fantasies he’d be having in the near future – starting that evening, if he had the opportunity. Not only had he enjoyed kissing George immensely, but the experience had also confirmed for him what the boys at the public toilets had not: he was definitely attracted to own sex.  
  
**  
  
Five days later and it was time to return to Hogwarts. Ron woke up with a stinking cold, and although Mrs Weasley spent a lot of the morning dosing him up with Pepper Up potion, his breathing through his reddened nose still had a distinctive snuffle.  
  
Harry had hoped that Fred and George had either forgotten or had changed their minds about getting Harry to re-test the potion. But to his dismay, they pulled him to one side five minutes before they were due to leave and pressed a vial into his hands.  
  
“Take this today. We recommend you drink it once you get on the train – that way it’ll wear off by the time you get to Hogwarts.”  
  
“You want me to drink this today – with all the other Hogwarts’ students around?” Harry asked with a whine. “I’m not going to do that!”  
  
“At least you’ll be guaranteed a whole compartment to yourself,” George said with a smirk followed by a meaningful wink. “Send us an owl to let us know how it goes, and then we won’t have to send one to our baby brother.”  
  
On the train, Harry sat quietly in one corner, next to a still-sniffling Ron. Hermione sat the other side, and within seconds of him drinking the potion, she started to complain.  
  
“Ugh. What is that smell?” She asked, looking around her with a grimace on her face. Leaning in Harry’s direction, she added, “Harry, is that you? It smells as if you’ve been rolling in something nasty.”  
  
“Fred and George have recruited me to test out a potion,” Harry explained. “It’s supposed to stink, but it’ll wear off soon.”  
  
He knew his tone didn’t hold much conviction, as he didn’t trust the twins completely. All he could do was hope that the smell would dissipate at least before they arrived in Hogsmeade station. Then Ron leaned over as well, sniffing through his blocked up nose, and Harry was sure he could see a faint blush on Ron’s cheeks.  
  
“I don’t think it’s that bad, at least not right up close…” Ron said. “Well, it smells nicer close up than in the rest of the carriage,” he added hastily, as if to underline the point that Harry’s scent did nothing for him.  
  
“As if you can smell anything reliably today,” Hermione said, shaking her head at Ron and tutting. “Trust me, Harry; it’s _foul_. Why on earth did you agree to test their potion, anyway? It might be dangerous.”  
  
Knowing that the potion was working, Harry did not want to share the carriage with anyone else. But when Seamus, Neville, Dean and Ginny chose that moment to join them, Harry gave a silent thank-you for the distraction, as it was enough to stop any further queries from Hermione.  
  
When Ginny started to complain about the smell, Neville, Seamus and Dean looked at her bemusedly, as if she was going mad, and Harry braced himself for a continued barrage of questions. To his relief, another distraction was afforded, this time in the form of Ron scowling at how closely Dean was sitting next to his sister.  
  
“Oh, will you give us a break, Ron,” Ginny said in exasperation, and grabbing Dean by the arm, she ushered him towards the door. “Come on; let’s find somewhere else to sit.”  
  
The conversation moved on to the Gryffindor’s chances at Quidditch this year, and both Seamus and Neville seemed overtly interested in Harry’s opinion of everything. Then they were enthusiastically asking him about his summer holidays and blatantly ignoring both Ron and Hermione. When Harry mentioned that he was starting to feel hungry, Seamus practically jumped out of his seat.  
  
“Yeah, me too. I’m going to see where the lunch trolley has got to. If it’s still a way down the train, do you want me to bring you anything back, Harry? Chocolate Frogs? Pumpkin Pasties?”  
  
“Er, yeah, okay. Thanks,” Harry muttered, feeling slightly stunned at the offer.  
  
“I’ll help you,” Neville added, and he bounded out of the carriage after Seamus.  
  
“You’re popular, today,” Ron said, frowning in Harry’s direction.  
  
Harry shrugged. “At least they’re not complaining about the smell.”  
  
The rest of the train journey passed in much the same manner, with Seamus and Neville continuing to badger him into conversation – after they had deposited a few handfuls of Chocolate Frogs and Pumpkin Pasties into his lap, which he shared with Ron and Hermione.  
  
**  
  
By the time they had reached Hogwarts, the effect of the potion still hadn’t dissipated, and Harry was left wondering if Fred and George had made the potion specifically so that only girls would be able to pick up on the pheromones, as only the female half of Hogwarts bothered to complain about the smell. Harry was also starting to worry about the excessive attention he seemed to be getting from the other boys.  
  
And things continued in a similar way over the next two days. Harry found that the best way to avoid complaints about the smell or unwanted attention was to just keep his distance from everyone – except for Ron, who still couldn’t smell anything because of his illness. But Ron did seem slightly annoyed about all the attention Seamus and Neville were giving Harry.  
  
Even the teachers left Harry feeling off-balance: Snape had been unexpectedly close-mouthed when it came to Harry’s work in Potions, and Professor McGonagall had insisted on more than one occasion that he retreat to Gryffindor tower and take a bath.  
  
But the most notable – and perhaps disturbing – part of those two days was an encounter with Malfoy. An encounter that featured no venom whatsoever (although, Ron did find it mildly insulting when Malfoy told Harry, “You could do so much better if you were to hang around with us.”) but it did involve a thoughtful perusal of the length of Harry’s body on Malfoy’s part. Harry hoped it was the potion – _really_ hoped. He didn’t think he could cope with a semi-reformed Draco Malfoy who was interested in him in _that_ way.  
  
He needn’t have worried, though. The potion seemed to have worn off by the next day, because Lavender kept touching his sleeve in Charms, and Malfoy was once again his usual nasty self.  
  
**  
  
On the day of their first visit to Hogsmeade, Harry was greeted at breakfast by two owls bearing letters. The first one Harry read was from Sirius, which said that he and Remus would be going up to Hogsmeade as well, to get their Christmas shopping done early; if Harry didn’t see them in the shops, he could meet them at Florean Fortescue’s later in the afternoon. The second one – he groaned – was from Fred and George and contained another vial of potion.  
  
 _Hello Harry,_

__

 

_Sorry that last dose took so long to wear off, but we’re sure that we’ve got it_  
right this time. We’ll meet you **and Ron** in Hogsmeade later today, in case there  
are any problems – which there won’t be. Make sure you take it this morning, so  
you can tell us how it’s working when you see us. 

__

 

_Gred and Forge_  
  
  
Harry didn’t need to wonder why they’d emboldened Ron’s name; it was a clear reminder why Harry was going to continue testing for them, whether he liked it or not.  
  
After breakfast, Hermione went upstairs to finish off an essay for Ancient Runes; she was going to meet Harry and Ron at lunchtime in The Three Broomsticks. Once she had left, Harry and Ron finished gorging themselves on bacon, eggs, and black pudding before making their way out of the Great Hall.  
  
As they neared the giant oak front doors Harry knocked back the contents of the vial, squeezing his eyes shut in a grimace at the taste. Because of this, he didn’t see how Ron managed to crash so spectacularly into Malfoy. Hearing the sound of falling objects and brazen swearing, Harry snapped his eyes open. Ron and Malfoy were sprawled on the floor, amidst what looked to be the contents of Malfoy’s bag.  
  
“You clumsy oaf,” Malfoy said as he shoved items back into a bag that now had a large split down the seam.  
  
“Me? You were the one who wasn’t looking where he was going,” Ron protested. “I think you’ve broken my ankle, you stupid ferret, and you’ve torn my robe!”  
  
“Oh dear, does that mean another trip to the second-hand shop?” Malfoy asked in a sarcastic drawl. “But I bet even that place is too up-market for your family. Perhaps you’d better get your slutty sister to go on the game; that might bring in a few… _knuts_.”  
  
“Take that back!  
  
“I’m not apologising to you, Weasel,” Malfoy sneered, and then he promptly gave Harry a look that said he’d gladly apologise to _him_ at any time.  
  
Harry shivered, and then his eyes widened when Malfoy suddenly whipped out his wand and pointed it in Ron’s direction.  
  
 _“Bulbusortia!”_  
  
Immediately, Ron’s nose began swelling into a grotesque parody of an onion; not wanting to be outdone by a Malfoy, he aimed a hex of his own that was said rather nasally.  
  
 _“Durdumculus!”_  
  
It wasn’t a curse that Harry recognised, but he was suitably impressed when a thorn-bush started to grow from Malfoy’s rear end. Harry wasn’t entirely sure what hex Ron had planned to use, but it was obvious by the look of surprise on Ron’s face that the effect wasn’t what he had intended.  
  
“What on earth is going on here?” The three of them froze as McGonagall interrupted the duel. She studied the scene before her and tutted. “Well really… I was hoping you would have grown out of this petty feud by now. Points will be deducted from both houses. Mr. Weasley, Mr. Malfoy, come with me to the Hospital Wing.  
  
Harry started to follow them up the stairs, but he froze in place when McGonagall turned and fixed him with a stern expression.  
  
“Are you injured in any way, Mr. Potter?” she asked pointedly.  
  
“Er…”  
  
“Well, run along then. And I suggest you take a shower before you leave for Hogsmeade.”  
  
At her words, Malfoy sniffed and then screwed up his face in confusion, obviously not finding Harry’s odour as offensive as she did. Once again, Malfoy was giving Harry’s body the once over.  
  
“You really are wasted in Gryffindor,” he said suggestively.  
  
“Enough, Mr. Malfoy!” McGonagall said, completely misjudging the lurid tone to Malfoy’s voice.  
  
Watching them carry on up the stairs without him, Harry shivered. He did not just find Malfoy lecherous behaviour appealing, he hastily told himself. He did not.  
  
Pulling himself together, Harry decided to wander down to Hogsmeade and find somewhere to hide until it was time to see Fred and George. Then he would tell them it was working and they could reverse the effects.  
  
“Wait up, Harry; I’ll walk down with you!”  
  
Harry stiffened as Seamus jogged to catch up.  
  
“I’m sure you don’t want to… I smell bad.” Well, for once, he hoped he did smell bad – bad enough to be left alone.  
  
Seamus leant forward to tentatively sniff at Harry. “You don’t. In fact, I think you smell… rather… um, nice.”  
  
Harry’s eyes widened at the blush on Seamus’s face. “Mmm, okay,” he mumbled as they passed through the gates.  
  
“Harry, have you ever wondered what it would be like to kiss another bloke?” Harry started; that made two boys who had come onto him in less than ten minutes. It had to be the potion – there was no way he was that lucky! His jaw dropped, and Seamus added, “Because I have… and… would you like to, Harry? Just the once, for comparison, like…”  
  
“Er, I…” What could he say? That he already knew? But then Seamus would want to know who, and Ron would find out and think that Harry fancied his brother. Harry stewed over this briefly, before realising that, if he was honest to himself, the idea of kissing Seamus wasn’t really all that bad.  
  
“What, right here?” he asked, frowning and making a gesture with his hand at all the other students walking past them.  
  
A sly smile appeared on Seamus’s face, and he shook his head. Grabbing Harry’s hand, Seamus swiftly pulled them both in the direction of a thicket a few yards from the path.


	2. Chapter 1

“I feel a bit silly standing here in the bushes kissing you when we share a dormitory,” murmured Harry.  
  
Seamus pulled Harry closer, inhaling deeply as their cheeks brushed together. “Can’t do it in the dormitory. Neville’d be jealous. He’s hot for you, you know.”  
  
Harry lifted his chin quickly, eyes open wide behind his glasses. “Really? I’d no idea.”  
  
“Well, o’course, he thinks you fancy Ron, but he’d be mighty jealous of my position right now.”  
  
Harry was about to protest the assertion that he fancied Ron (was it that obvious?), but his mouth became otherwise occupied with a certain Irish boy’s lips. Harry quivered at the feeling. He liked Seamus’s kisses almost as much as he liked George’s. Harry leaned into the kiss and heard Seamus moan softly. Encouraged, Harry slid his moist tongue into Seamus’s mouth the way George had done it to him. Seamus greedily welcomed it, and as soon as Harry was finished poking around, Seamus returned the favour by showing him exactly what a _real_ snog was like.  
  
When they finally had to break apart for air, Harry gasped, “God, Seamus, where’d you learn to kiss like that?” While waiting for his answer, Harry leaned in and nibbled on his earlobe before brushing his lips along the side of Seamus’s neck.  
  
“I spent a fair amount of time with the ladies last summer,” Seamus answered, and he stretched his neck to give Harry better access.  
  
He moaned as Harry slid his hands lower to grasp Seamus’s arse, pulling Seamus close enough to give him a clear idea of what those kisses were doing to his cock. Seamus boldly pressed his growing bulge against Harry in response. They kissed deeply once more, all the while grinding their hips together.  
  
“Harry,” Seamus panted breathlessly, “a bloke like you could make me forget all about those ladies.” His mouth explored every bit of Harry’s exposed skin that it could reach. He reached his hand lower to stroke Harry’s cock through his trousers. “If you’d like, I could help you with this,” Seamus whispered, lightly squeezing Harry’s crotch.  
  
Harry leaned back, stunned. Apparently this potion did as good a job at attracting boys as it did at repelling girls. He could definitely see the advantages to being a Weasley test subject. He grinned at Seamus, asking, “What did you have in mind?”  
  
“Well, we’re mates, aren’t we? And mates help each other out when they have problems.” Without waiting for a response, Seamus opened Harry’s flies and rubbed Harry’s cock through his pants, eliciting a loud moan. “You see, I can tell you’re feeling better already.”  
  
Although somewhat stunned by Seamus’s bold move, Harry wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He unzipped Seamus’s jeans and captured his lips in a searing kiss as he slid his hand down the flesh of Seamus’s belly, wrapping his fingers around his shaft.  
  
Harry gasped at the sensation when Seamus did the same thing to him. It was amazing; Seamus wasn’t doing anything different than he normally did to himself, but it felt exponentially more intense. It was a strange feeling, having someone else’s hand on his most sensitive bits, and more than a little weird to think that his hand motion was causing the delightful little noises that were escaping from Seamus’s throat. Harry’s lips moved to Seamus’s neck, while his hand continued to pump enthusiastically. Seamus’s hand sped up – his breathing more ragged – and Harry could sense that Seamus was nearly as close to coming as he was. The pulling, panting, thumb brushing over his slit, and gentle squeezing continued until Harry couldn’t hold back any longer, and he came with a loud gasp. Seconds later, Harry could feel the sticky warmth of Seamus’s seed on his hand.  
  
A moment of awkwardness followed as they simultaneously realized that they were standing in the middle of a thicket just off the road into Hogsmeade, each boy with a sticky hand down another boy’s trousers.  
  
“Yes, well… a cleaning spell is in order, don’t you reckon?” said Harry as he pulled his hand out of Seamus’s jeans. They cleaned each other up and made their way out of the thicket onto the road. It was nearly deserted now, the other students having rushed into the Village to get to Honeydukes and Zonko’s.  
  
Seamus bit his lower lip, and then tentatively asked, “We’re okay, right? I hope you didn’t think that was… what I mean to say is, well… we’re still mates, aren’t we? It wasn’t too weird?”  
  
“I thought it was brilliant. Thank you.” Harry looked for pedestrians, and seeing none, he leaned over and kissed Seamus again. “Are you okay with it?”  
  
Seamus flashed him a crooked smile. “I’m still partial to ladies, but if you ever need a hand, you know where to find me.”  
  
“And the same for you, too.” Harry couldn’t rein in the cheerful smile pasted on his face; he’d just had his first sexual encounter, and he felt fantastic.  
  
Harry and Seamus walked along in silence for a bit. Harry was wondering whether he and Seamus would be able to act normally in the dormitory again, when his thoughts wandered to Ron. What if Ron found out about it and thought that Harry liked Seamus and not him?  
  
“Seamus, if it’s all the same, I’d just as soon not mention what we did to Ron. You know he can’t seem to keep his mouth shut, and I’d hate for him to upset Neville.”  
  
Seamus cast him a sideways glance, looking very smug. “Okay, but it’ll cost you. I might make you refresh my memory so I know what I’m not supposed to tell him.”  
  
“Why Mr. Finnigan, I do believe that’s blackmail,” laughed Harry. “But I think your terms are more than reasonable.” It occurred to Harry that he was now being blackmailed by three people – Seamus and the twins – and really, it didn’t seem all that bad.  
  
By the time they reached Hogsmeade, Harry and Seamus had gotten back to their usual easy rapport. Harry had no idea when or if Ron would be able to join him, but Seamus had plans to meet Neville at Honeydukes, so they headed toward the small sweet shop.  
  
Honeydukes was swarming with students, as usual, but they forced their way into the shop anyway. Ginny waved at him from across the room and motioned him over. As he approached, however, he saw a pained expression wash across her face.  
  
“No offence, Harry, but did you shower this morning? You smell a bit… ripe,” Ginny grimaced, taking a large step backwards.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. Receiving all that attention from Seamus made him forget how badly he smelled to girls. “Yeah, but I told Fred and George I’d test their potion again. It’s supposed to repel girls – is it working?”  
  
Ginny nodded weakly, and Harry noticed tears forming in her eyes. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stand it. I’ll talk to you when it wears off, okay?” Harry nodded while Ginny practically ran to the other side of the shop.  
  
Harry paused to examine the display of sugar quills, contemplating whether he should buy some for Ron. His thoughts were interrupted, however, when he noticed a press of bodies against his. Seamus, Justin, Colin and a whole host of other boys were flocking around him, as if he were some kind of Prophet speaking the Truth. Carefully surveying the room, he noticed that all the girls in the shop had congregated in the corner furthest from him, whilst all the boys were jostling each other to be near him. Harry almost wished he had a picture to show Fred and George – it was truly amazing how well their Anti-Pheromone Potion was working.  
  
“Here, Harry, let me buy you some of these!” called Anthony Goldstein. He grabbed a handful of sugar quills and took them to the counter. This set off a flurry of activity: at least ten different boys insisting on buying Harry sweets. Harry was horribly embarrassed, but surprisingly, no one else thought this behaviour was strange.  
  
Seamus edged up to him, waggling his eyebrows and saying, “Just remember which of your friends is going to take care of _all_ of your needs, Harry.”  
  
Harry glanced at him, grinning but saying nothing. He hoped that Seamus wasn’t thinking that there was more going on between them than sex. After all, the potion would wear off soon, and then things would return to normal, right?  
  
“I think I need a little fresh air. I’m going to walk outside for a bit, okay, Seamus?”  
  
Seamus seemed a bit disappointed at this, but nodded just the same. “All right. I have to meet Neville, but I’ll catch up with you later, mate.”  
  
If Harry thought his leaving Honeydukes was going to get him some peace and quiet, he was sadly mistaken. As he left, a fair few boys left with him, seeming as if they’d follow him anywhere like the Pied Piper of Hamlin. It was more than a little unnerving.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, he led the group to Zonko’s Joke Shop. Much to Harry’s delight, he found Fred and George inside, deep in conversation with Zonko himself. Harry moved towards them and George looked up, his face beaming at the sight of Harry.  
  
“Harry, come over here. We’ve just been trying to persuade Zonko to carry some of our best-selling products,” George said, beckoning Harry to them. He turned to Zonko as Harry approached, saying, “Allow me to introduce Harry Potter. Harry, this is Mr. Zonko.”  
  
As he shook hands with Zonko, Harry suddenly felt an unbidden hand groping his arse. He tried to ignore it, and as soon as he had finished saying hello, Harry shot a nasty glare at George. But the problem was, it wasn’t George’s hand – it was Fred’s! Bloody hell, this potion was weird!  
  
“Do you mind?” he said quietly to Fred, who quickly pulled his hand away. As the four of them talked, Harry was surprised by Zonko’s outspoken friendliness, and he was definitely uncomfortable with the twins’ sweeping glances up and down the length of his body. It would have been flattering, except that the middle of Zonko’s Joke Shop, surrounded by a large number of fellow students, was hardly the appropriate venue for that sort of thing.  
  
When Zonko finally left them to wait on his customers, Harry pulled Fred and George aside. “Listen, you two. Would you stop ogling me for a moment and let me tell you about the Anti-Pheromone Potion?”  
  
“Oh, did you take it this morning?” asked Fred.  
  
George looked around. “And where’s Ron? He’s supposed to be with you.”  
  
Harry shook his head. “Ron got into a fight with Malfoy and caught a hex in the face. He’s back at the hospital wing.”  
  
Fred furrowed his brow. “Mum always tells him to keep his cool, but does he listen?”  
  
“More importantly,” George asked, “did he get Malfoy?”  
  
“Yeah,” chuckled Harry. “The last I saw him, he had a thorn-bush growing out of his arse. Serves him right, too, after the nasty comment he made about your sister.”  
  
“Why that little—”  
  
George said, “Relax, Fred. Ickle Ronnikins defended her honour. Heh – gives new meaning to the phrase ‘pain in the arse,’ doesn’t it?”  
  
Harry glanced at the clock on the wall. “Hey, I’m supposed to meet Hermione at The Three Broomsticks in a few minutes. Why don’t you join us, and I’ll tell you all about the potion.”  
  
George put an arm across Harry’s shoulders in a friendly manner as the three of them walked towards The Three Broomsticks. Fred was walking so close on Harry’s other side that Harry was feeling claustrophobic.  
  
“It appears that your Anti-Pheromone Potion works spectacularly well to repel girls. The dose I took this morning was so foul, it had Ginny nearly in tears, and Professor McGonagall told me to take a shower.”  
  
“Excellent!” exclaimed Fred. “That’s exactly what we were hoping would happen.”  
  
Harry caught his eye. “Yes, well the other thing it appears to do is attract boys with equal force. Several times already, I’ve been propositioned and groped by guys whom I know prefer girls.” He raised an accusing eyebrow at Fred, who blushed up to his ears. “I even got an appreciative leer from Malfoy, and he loathes me.”  
  
Harry glanced over at George, whose eyes had opened wide.  
  
“Oh what a relief!” George said. “I was a little concerned about my complete inability to control myself.” He leaned toward Harry and whispered, “I know you have a thing for my brother, but I’d be happy to, er, show you a bit of Weasley charm while you’re waiting for him to wise up. What do you say?”  
  
Harry swallowed hard. God, another proposition. And this one was an offer Harry definitely wanted to consider, based on their abbreviated kiss from the summer holiday and his fumblings with Seamus this morning. But since there were so many students about, he thought it wise to avoid a direct answer.  
  
“I don’t think the middle of a crowded street is the right place to discuss it, George. Let’s talk later.”  
  
George’s head snapped so quickly in Harry’s direction that he nearly hurt himself, and a sly grin spread across his face. “Right. Later it is.” He held the door open for Harry as they reached the pub.  
  
Harry got a number of strange looks from some girls standing near the doorway, and he remembered the potion again. Wanting to retreat into a corner, he observed that all of the tables were occupied. Some fifth year Gryffindors he knew from the Quidditch team were sitting in a far corner, surrounded by other tables of boys and just one table of girls. A Slytherin-like idea popped into his head.  
  
“Guys, order me a butterbeer while your Anti-Pheromone Potion and I get us a table,” said Harry with a smirk.  
  
The twins’ eyes lit up and they agreed. Harry strolled over to the table where Andrew Kirke and his friends were sitting, and struck up a friendly conversation. They appeared awestruck that _Harry Potter_ would actually seek them out in a pub. More than one boy offered up his seat, but Harry declined. Sure enough, in about two minutes, the girls stood up from the next table, leaving behind their half-eaten food. Harry watched them leave The Three Broomsticks and motioned Fred and George over with a nod of his head.  
  
“Brilliant, mate,” said George as he sat down at the table next to Harry. “That blonde said something about an overpowering stench as she walked out – that wouldn’t have been you, would it?”  
  
Hermione’s voice answered before Harry could. “I’m afraid it is. Harry, you’ve got to stop testing whatever it is they’re inventing, or I’m never going to be able to spend any time with you. Honestly.”  
  
“Hold on, Hermione. Do you mind if I try something? It might help,” Fred said earnestly. She agreed, and Fred muttered a spell at her under his breath. “How’s that?”  
  
Hermione smiled knowingly. “Clever. Of course, I probably won’t be able to taste my food very well with no sense of smell, but it should keep me from vomiting all over the table, so that’s a plus. Thanks Fred.”  
  
Madam Rosmerta did not have the benefit of Fred’s charm to mask her sense of smell, so she took their orders as quickly as possible and hurried off. As they spoke, Harry felt George’s hand on his thigh, fingertips gently massaging the sensitive spot between his legs. The more Harry tried to ignore what was happening, the bolder George became, until finally he was brushing his fingers over the impossibly hard bulge in Harry’s trousers. Harry remained quiet, not trusting his voice to sound like anything more than a squeak, but George managed to carry the conversation quite nicely with his anecdotes concerning the adventures of the proprietors of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.  
  
Unable to take the teasing any longer, Harry swatted away George’s hand, not missing the smirk George had planted on his face. After a minute and several deep, calming breaths, Harry excused himself to go to the loo.  
  
He collapsed against the tile, wiping sweat from his brow and panting, while he tried to bring certain parts of his anatomy back under his control. It shouldn’t have surprised him that George followed after him thirty seconds later.  
  
“You all right in here, Harry?”  
  
“No thanks to you. What do you think you’re doing?” asked a distressed Harry.  
  
George smirked and closed the space between them. “I would have thought that much was obvious. It took you a long time to get me to stop, though. One might think you actually _liked_ what I was doing.” He kissed Harry insistently, reversing all of the progress that Harry had made in calming himself down.  
  
“Gods, George. I _did_ like it. But anybody could walk in here now and see us.”  
  
Harry didn’t look at all comfortable with that idea, so George led him into a cubicle and transfigured the toilet into a squashy chair. He pushed Harry onto it and straddled his thighs while capturing Harry’s mouth into another breathtaking kiss.  
  
“Mmmm, Harry. I was already interested in you before you took that potion, but gods, you smell good enough to eat. I want to taste you, Harry.”  
  
George’s pupils were dilated with lust, and Harry had a feeling that any request he made now would not be denied. “W—would you suck me off, George? It’s something I’ve been wanting for a long time.”  
  
George looked as if Christmas had come early, and he couldn’t move fast enough. His fingers made quick work of Harry’s buttons and flies. Harry hardly had time to get used to the idea of what was about to happen to him before George was dropping to his knees.  
  
Harry felt very exposed as George pulled open his shirt and lowered his underpants to his ankles. “What if someone comes in?” he asked anxiously.  
  
Grabbing his wand from his back pocket, George spelled the lock on the door. “I can’t do anything about noise since the door doesn’t go all the way to the floor. You’re just going to have to be quiet. Can you do that?”  
  
“I’ll try,” answered Harry with a nod. Staying quiet was much more difficult than he thought it would be, considering the loud moan that escaped from his throat even before George’s mouth had gotten anywhere near his cock.  
  
George kissed his way from Harry’s mouth down to his belly, reaching one hand up to worry each of Harry’s nipples as his tongue moved ever southward. By the time George reached Harry’s cock, it was already glistening with pre-come. George positioned his mouth over the tip and exhaled lightly, causing a noticeable shiver through Harry’s body. Finally, Harry gasped as most of his shaft disappeared into George’s mouth.  
  
“Fuck, that’s good,” panted Harry. George tried to answer, but since his mouth was full of Harry’s cock, it came out as a hum. However, the vibration from George’s hum coaxed several more moans from Harry’s mouth.  
  
George was doing the most amazing thing with his tongue while one hand cupped Harry’s balls and the other reached up to lightly pinch one of his nipples. Harry wasn’t going to last long at this rate, but he was unable to articulate anything more coherent than “guh” to ask him to slow down. Then George rolled his sac with his palm while sucking Harry’s prick in as deeply as it would go, and all Harry could think about was the need to come. Now.  
  
“George,” Harry whimpered. George sucked harder and Harry shot into his mouth.  
  
As the tremors that racked his body subsided, Harry opened his eyes, with a sated smile on his face, and saw Fred peering at them from under the door to the cubicle.


	3. Chapter 3

George shifted, and Harry looked away from Fred as George moved up the chair to straddle Harry and give him another searing kiss. Glancing down at the bottom of the door, Harry winked at Fred, with George remaining blissfully unaware that his brother was playing the part of voyeur. Keeping the eye contact with Fred, Harry ran his hands down George’s sides, lower and lower and sliding them over his buttocks before bringing one around to the front to massage at George’s hard prick. George moaned heavily into Harry’s mouth and ground his hips into Harry’s hands all the while Fred’s gaping mouth increasingly resembled that of a fish.  
  
Harry briefly wondered whether he should feel a bit subversive doing this, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Knowing that Fred had just watched him come while George had sucked him off, knowing that Fred was still watching as Harry groped and kissed his brother, and knowing that George _didn’t_ know, was all turning Harry on something silly. At that precise moment, Harry knew exactly what he wanted for Christmas: a bed full of Weasleys with an audience – full of straight men like Fred. It was just a pity that his prick was having trouble keeping up.  
  
Then Harry noticed that George’s eyes had opened, and he was looking directly at Harry looking at the bottom of the cubicle door; George stopped. Oops, it seemed Harry had been caught out!  
  
Whipping his head around, George glared at his brother. “Fred, do you mind!”  
  
“Hermione sent me in here to find out if you’re okay, Harry,” Fred mumbled, blushing hard. “I…er, was just curious.”  
  
“Well, you can go and tell her that Harry’s just feeling a little off colour, but he’ll be out in a bit,” George said before turning back round and giving Harry a heated kiss. “As much as I like the idea of a threesome, I don’t think I’d do it with my brother – _any_ of my brothers.”  
  
“George, I think we’d better be getting back to Hermione, anyway,” Harry said, trying to hide his disappointment that a threesome was not going to be an option. “I don’t want her coming in here; I wouldn’t put it past her if we kept her waiting too long.”  
  
George sighed and reluctantly stood, holding out a hand for Harry. Harry dressed, and George straightened his own clothes, pulling his jumper down so it covered the prominent bulge at the front of his trousers. Once they had exited the cubicle, Harry noticed that Fred’s jumper had also been pulled low over his crotch.  
  
Opening the door, George asked, “We’ll finish this another time? Without the spectator.” Harry smiled and nodded as they made their way back to the table, and George added, “Why don’t you see if you can get rid of Hermione when you come to get the antidote?”  
  
“You don’t have it on you?”  
  
“No, left it back at Zonko’s. You’ll have to come and get it,” George said with a wink.  
  
“Do you actually want the antidote, though, or do you have plans for Ron when you see him later?” Fred asked, and he smirked at the scowl on George’s face.  
  
But Harry didn’t answer, not knowing whether Hermione would be able to hear at this distance.  
  
As soon as they reached the table, Hermione’s suspicious gaze passed from Harry to George to Fred and then back to Harry. “You’ve been ages. What have you been doing in there?” she asked.  
  
“I just felt a little off-colour,” Harry lied. “I’m okay now.”  
  
“It’s not that potion making you ill, is it?” Hermione said and turned to Fred and George. “What _is_ it that you’ve got Harry testing?”  
  
“It’s an Anti-Pheromone Potion,” Fred explained with a proud grin as he and George sat down, sandwiching Harry between them, “It’s designed to scare off the ladies.”  
  
“ _Just_ the ladies, I take it. You two certainly don’t seem to mind the smell,” she said, pointedly looking at how close the twins were both pressed up next to Harry. They instantly shuffled in their seats to put a couple of inches between them and Harry.  
  
Harry successfully distracted Hermione from any further talk about the potion by asking her about the essay she had been working on that morning. Encouraged by his sudden interest, she happily launched into a description of the Muggle use of runes for divination purposes. He smiled and nodded at what he thought was appropriate places, but his thoughts drifted back to what Fred had said about Ron and the potion. Could he really use the potion to get closer to Ron? Would it be right? He felt guilty just contemplating it; it would be tantamount to using Ron, especially if he had no inclinations towards Harry in the first place. But, Harry reasoned, perhaps if that was the case, they could write it off as an experimental thing. Or maybe it would help Ron to see Harry in a new light. Either way, Harry couldn’t see any harm in trying. Yes, if Ron made it to Hogsmeade, Harry would have to find a way to get him on his own.  
  
Just as Harry had come to his decision, Ron entered The Three Broomsticks. He waved and walked over, and Harry noted with dismay that Ron’s nose still appeared to be swollen, but at least it now resembled a nose.  
  
“Ron, what have you done?” Hermione asked in alarm.  
  
“Got into a fight with Malfoy.”  
  
“Ron!”  
  
“What? Even you’ve been pushed far enough to hit him before now.”  
  
“Can you actually smell anything out of that great hooter?” George asked.  
  
“No, and Pomfrey says it’s going to take a couple of days for the swelling to go down completely,” Ron scanned the room, his head stopping once he spied Madame Rosmerta. “I could do with a butterbeer.”  
  
Ron tried to get her attention, but she seemed determined to ignore their table completely.  
  
“You’ll have to go up to the bar, Ron,” Hermione said. “Harry’s really smelly, and I think Madam Rosmerta is avoiding coming over to our table.”  
  
“The potion?” Ron asked, and Harry nodded. Chuckling under his breath, Ron wandered over to the bar.  
  
“I suppose we should be getting back to Zonko’s—” George began.  
  
“We said we’d give him a hand this afternoon,” Fred continued.  
  
“We’ll see you later, Harry,” George added with a wink. “For the antidote.”  
  
Harry watched them say goodbye to Ron on their way out and turned back to Hermione to find her studying him intently.  
  
“Did you know that George is gay?” She asked suddenly, looking concerned.  
  
“Er, yeah.”  
  
“I think he might be… you know… _interested_ in you.”  
  
“I think I might be as well,” he blurted out, and then he realised how Hermione would take this. “In boys, I mean.”  
  
“Do you see George that way – as boyfriend material?”  
  
“No, I wouldn’t date him; that would be too weird. But it’s okay; I can handle him,” Harry said, trying not to smirk at the image his words had brought to mind.  
  
“So you don’t mind the side-effect of the potion?” she asked with a knowing smile.  
  
Harry smiled back warmly. “Please don’t tell Ron any of this. I want to tell him myself, when I’m ready.” _Hopefully when his nose is back to normal,_ Harry thought. _But I’ll have to find a way to get some more of the potion for that._  
  
Once Ron came back to the table, he told Hermione and Harry with delight how Malfoy was still stuck in the Hospital Wing. Because Ron hadn’t used a conventional spell, Madame Pomfrey was having trouble reversing the effects. So far, the thorn-bush had gone, but in its place was a small cactus that looked twice as prickly and was stubbornly refusing to disappear.  
  
They finished their drinks and left the pub to wander along the main street. Harry mentioned going to Zonko’s so he could collect the antidote – there didn’t seem much point in putting it off now that he knew it wouldn’t have any effect on Ron. As Ron hadn’t been to Honeydukes yet, Harry and Hermione agreed to stop there once more on the way.  
  
Honeydukes was full of students, and at that moment Harry didn’t fancy the idea of attracting a lot of attention from all those boys in front of Ron. He told Hermione and Ron that he’d wait outside rather than upset the girls in the shop. He hadn’t been waiting long when a hand grabbed him by his shoulder and pulled him backwards, steering him away from Honeydukes. It was Remus.  
  
“Where are we going?” Harry asked, feeling slightly alarmed at the urgency with which Remus was walking.  
  
“Just keep your voice down and come with me,” Remus muttered.  
  
Harry assumed that something had to be wrong, that Remus was taking him to safety. But if that was the case, surely Ron and Hermione – and the rest of the students – were in danger, too.  
  
“What about Ron and Hermione?” he asked.  
  
“They can stay where they are,” Remus insisted. “Walk faster.”  
  
Remus practically frogmarched Harry across the fields towards the shrieking shack, saying nothing. Approaching the tall, wooden building, Remus drew his wand and aimed it at a very precarious-looking door, muttering a spell. The door swung inwards, and Remus pushed Harry through the open doorway. Harry turned around as Remus entered and closed the door behind them.  
  
“What’s going…?” Harry trailed off when he saw the wild gleam in Remus’s eye. _Uh oh, this can’t be good. Is Remus going to come on to me, as well?_  
  
Harry was expecting to at least get a verbal proposition, but Remus didn’t say a word. In one swift movement, Remus had removed Harry’s coat and pinned him to the wall. He buried his face in Harry’s neck and inhaled deeply before starting to kiss and lick his way up to Harry’s earlobe. _Oh my god, Remus is kissing my neck,_ Harry thought, and he tried to push him away, but Harry wasn’t strong enough. Like it or not, he was about to be ravished by Remus. Harry gasped as Remus started to suck firmly on his skin. _Oh! That shouldn’t have felt as good as it did. Maybe I should just enjoy it…_  
  
Deciding to make the most of this encounter, Harry ceased his struggles, and Remus’s hands travelled to the front of his t-shirt, suddenly ripping the fabric from neck to hem, leaving Harry bare-chested. Harry moaned as Remus’s mouth worked its way round to lick at the hollow of his throat, and before he could stop himself he was asking Remus to do what George had done earlier.  
  
“Would you… suck me off?” he asked.  
  
Remus chuckled against his chest and said, “I’m going to do a whole lot more to you than just that.”  
  
Then his hand drifted downwards and rubbed along Harry’s now-straining erection, causing Harry to gasp again. Lifting his head up, Remus leaned in for a kiss, and Harry’s lips parted in anticipation.  
  
With a hand entwined in Harry’s hair, Remus devoured him, and Harry was moaning around Remus’s moustached mouth, feeling it prickle his upper lip as Remus ground their mouths together. Remus’s hand still stroked the front of Harry’s trousers in a frustratingly slow motion, and Harry pushed his hips forwards, bringing a hand up to rest on Remus’s elbow to encourage him to rub harder. Harry only vaguely noticed the click of a door, and he assumed that it was just the wind rushing through the old house.  
  
But there was no ignoring the voice of his godfather.  
  
“I saw you two marching over here across the fields, and—” Sirius panted, as if he was out of breath. Harry froze. At the feel of Harry’s resistance, Remus went back to kissing his neck, still massaging his groin in full view of Sirius. “Just what the blazes do you think you’re doing to my godson, Remus?”  
  
When Remus ignored him, Sirius moved forward to intervene, but Remus shoved him away hard, sending him flying against a dusty, broken cabinet. Sirius’s wand clattered to the floor, and Remus instantly picked it up, pocketing it. Harry took a step towards Sirius to make sure he wasn’t badly injured, but Remus pushed him back, telling him not to move.  
  
“But…”  
  
“I’m okay, Harry,” Sirius grunted, and Remus growled in his direction.  
  
“You _growl_?” Harry asked in amazement, trying to ignore the way that sound had sent shivers through his groin.  
  
Remus merely smiled and buried his face once more in Harry’s neck with a second resonant growl that went straight down Harry’s spine. Remus then started to nuzzle at Harry’s throat, his hands drifting down towards Harry’s hips. Harry was alarmed; even though what Remus was doing was more than enjoyable, he certainly couldn’t do this with Sirius in the room, knowing that Sirius wanted it to stop.  
  
“No!” Harry exclaimed, trying to push Remus away, but Remus grabbed both his wrists in one hand and pinned them against the wall above Harry’s head. He started biting and sucking on Harry’s chest enthusiastically and placed his knee between Harry’s legs, pressing against Harry’s erection.  
  
“What have you taken, Remus?” Sirius asked, rubbing at a sore spot on his back.  
  
Again, Remus ignored him, choosing to continue with his attentions to Harry and attempting to undo Harry’s trousers single-handedly.  
  
“I don’t know if _he_ has,” Harry squeaked, “but I have: an Anti-Pheromone Potion.”  
  
“A what?”  
  
“Fred and George made it,” Harry explained, his voice rapidly rising in pitch as Remus managed to open his trousers and slip a hand inside. “It’s designed to repel girls, but it seems to have the opposite effect on everyone else, especially Remus.”  
  
“I’ll bloody say!” Sirius frowned and anxiously rubbed at his brow. “Harry, I can try to stop him, but knowing what he can be like, I’ll probably end up unconscious on the floor by the time he’s finished with me. He’s too strong and too bloody determined when he gets like this; as a werewolf, he’s particularly sensitive to that sort of stimulus.”  
  
Remus growled again in Sirius’s direction, as if to emphasise that Sirius being beaten unconscious would be _exactly_ what would happen. Trying to pull Harry’s trousers down further, still with only one hand, and not succeeding, Remus looked up at the ceiling and yanked Harry forwards a few paces so they was now standing underneath an exposed rafter. He drew his wand and bound Harry’s wrists to the rafter with rope.  
  
“Er, Remus,” Harry said hesitantly, yanking at the rope and feeling it rub on his skin.  
  
Remus merely gave him a dirty smile, and Harry had to bite his lip to hold back a moan. He knew that he ought to have been terrified that Remus was doing this to him, so Harry was surprised by how turned on he was. He wanted to be ravished all right and was very close to telling Sirius to just leave them to it.  
  
“I’ve seen him like this once before and there was no stopping him then,” Sirius said, now pacing the floor in a distracted state and frequently glancing up at the binds that held Harry fast and then down at Remus, who had sunk to his knees and was stripping Harry from the waist downwards. “I made the mistake of lacing his drink with an aphrodisiac, for a laugh; the last laugh was certainly on me that evening.”  
  
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but all that escaped was a startled gasp as Remus wrapped his mouth around Harry’s cock.  
  
“Remus, have you any idea how… _disturbing_ it is to watch you do this to Harry?” Sirius asked, looking just as unsettled as he claimed to be. “Especially, when I’m trying to carry out a conversation with the boy.”  
  
Remus growled around Harry’s cock, prompting Harry to throw his head back and let out a loud groan of pleasure, his eyes rolling back in their sockets.  
  
Sirius gaped at the picture before him. “Harry, why do I get the impression that you’re not as bothered by all this as you should be?”  
  
“There’s an antidote,” Harry said, now swinging from side to side as both his legs were hoisted up, one over each of Remus’s shoulders, the rope pulling at Harry’s wrists. “Fred and George have got some with them at Zonko’s. You could go and get it for me.”  
  
Remus took Harry’s cock in his mouth once more and ran his hands along the undersides of Harry’s thighs, resting them on his buttocks, fingers teasing at his opening. No one had ever touched Harry there before, but he wasn’t about to complain any time soon.  
  
“I can’t leave you here to be buggered through the floorboards!”  
  
“So join in,” Remus piped up. “He smells delicious, Sirius.” Remus turned his head to look directly at Sirius and added in a tone that brooked no refusal, “Come and smell him.”  
  
Sirius paled, and inwardly, Harry found himself pleading for him not to be completely repulsed by the thought. If Sirius would only step close enough for the potion to take its effect, then Harry could have the threesome that he wouldn’t get with Fred and George. He caught Sirius’s eye and nodded to show that it was okay.  
  
Sirius stepped forward, swallowing audibly, and he tentatively sniffed at Harry’s chest, wincing at the marks he saw there that Remus had left.  
  
“He needs to be lubricated,” Remus stated matter-of-factly as he licked at Harry’s scrotum, drawing another moan from him.  
  
Sirius looked at Harry in desperation. “Harry, say something… say anything.”  
  
“I don’t mind.”  
  
“Oh, God!”  
  
“Lubrication,” Remus repeated. “You have direct experience with how little patience I have for it.”  
  
“Er, okay,” Sirius stuttered. “But I’ll need my wand.”  
  
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Remus asked with a laugh. “Use your mouth.”  
  
Harry shivered in his restraints. _Please just do what he says,_ he thought. _Don’t make me beg you._  
  
“Harry?” Sirius asked, clearly hoping that Harry would say no.  
  
Harry nodded again, and Sirius swore under his breath, muttering, “The whole world’s gone mad.”  
  
At the sensation of Sirius’s wet, probing tongue, Harry let out a keening sound. Now this was an experience definitely worth having. He was certain that having already come twice that day was the only thing stopping him from releasing himself down Remus’s throat that very instant.  
  
But all too soon, Remus grunted, “Enough.” And Harry let out a disappointed mewl as Sirius moved away. “Stretch him. And stand up while you do it: I want to see you kiss your godson.”  
  
Sirius stood to one side of Harry, wetting two fingers in his mouth and looking at Harry with wide eyes, still completely dazed by all that was happening. Harry smiled to reassure him.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“Yes. I’d like that.”  
  
“I guess I’m driving the bus to hell today,” Sirius said as he leaned forward to capture Harry’s lips with his own.  
  
Sirius’s kisses were softer and less demanding than Remus’s, but in their own way, they were just as pleasurable. Harry let out a squeak as he felt a wet digit push its way inside, and he pressed back against it, feeling it slide all the way in up to the knuckle. A second finger joined the first and brushed a spot inside Harry that sent a spark through his body; he arched his back, deepening the kiss and burying himself deeply in Remus’s mouth, coming hard.  
  
Then Remus pulled back once more, and stood up, letting Harry’s legs fall back to the floor shaking like jelly. Feeling Sirius’s fingers still sliding in and out of him, Harry watched with fascination as Remus pulled Sirius’s head round and they began to kiss in front of him, Remus’s hands moving lower to undo Sirius’s trousers.  
  
Once Sirius’s clothing was pooled around his ankles, Remus briefly knelt once more to remove them completely. Sirius looked down at his erection, back up at Harry, and then he gave an apologetic smile for getting so turned on by what he had been doing. Harry smiled back wickedly, causing his godfather to shudder.  
  
“Sirius, wrap his legs around your waist,” Remus ordered, and he gave Sirius a shove so that he was now standing face to face with Harry, the fingers slipping from Harry’s entrance.  
  
With some help from Remus, Sirius pulled both of Harry’s legs up and supported them with his arms. Harry leant in for a kiss and shifted his hips slightly, feeling his spent cock rub up against Sirius’s. He shivered at the sensation of Remus breathing at the back of his neck, and then Remus was ripping his t-shirt once more, this time the back being torn in two. As Remus sucked and bit at Harry’s back and the nape of his neck, he slid two hands underneath, pulling Harry’s cheeks apart. Harry lapped at Sirius’s tongue, the pair of them moaning, and Sirius’s hands brushing gently along his thighs. All of a sudden, Harry felt Remus’s cock press against him and he froze, a wave of apprehension sweeping through him.  
  
“Shh, Harry, it’s okay,” Sirius murmured, planting soft kisses across Harry’s face. “It’ll be okay.”  
  
Harry tried to relax, but it stung, and as Remus pushed the head inside it started to burn. Harry could feel his eyes beginning to water.  
  
“Remus, you’re hurting him,” Sirius said, his voice laced with worry. “For fucks sake, use your wand.”  
  
The pain subsided as Remus stepped back, growling in annoyance, and Harry could hear him muttering a spell that left Harry feeling tingly and wet inside. Remus breathed hot air across Harry’s shoulder blades as he moved in to try entering him a second time. To Harry’s relief, it didn’t burn, even when Remus had sheathed himself entirely and slowly started to rock in and out, causing Harry’s hips to rock against Sirius.  
  
“What do you think of your godfather’s cock, Harry?”  
  
Harry looked down at the proud flesh jutting out and leaking a drop pre-come from the tip. If he wasn’t tied to the rafters, Harry would have wrapped a hand around it without hesitation.  
  
“I want to touch it,” Harry said.  
  
“You can’t. Sirius, touch yourself so that Harry can watch; show him just how much you’re enjoying me deflowering your godson.”  
  
Sirius groaned at Remus’s words and removed a supporting arm from one of Harry’s legs. In response, Harry had to cling on tightly with his thighs in order to stop too much weight being taken by the harsh rope around his wrists. Harry stared avidly as Sirius wrapped a hand around his cock and started to move it in time with Remus’s gentle thrusts.  
  
“Are you close, Sirius?” Remus asked huskily across Harry’s shoulder.  
  
“Mmm.”  
  
“Harry, talk dirty to him. Tell him what you’d do to his cock with your mouth. You’d like that wouldn’t you, Sirius.”  
  
“Oh, God,” Sirius panted.  
  
Harry licked his lips, unsure for a moment what to say. But then he thought back to the blow job he had got earlier from George, and he knew exactly what he’d do to Sirius’s cock if he had the chance.  
  
“I’d lick your cock slowly from base to tip, letting my tongue flick across the head, tasting the pre-come before taking it in my mouth and sucking on it. At the same time, I’d play with your sac in my fingers, letting my other hand sink between your legs—”  
  
But just as Harry was getting into his erotic description, Sirius was coming, panting hard, creamy liquid landing across Harry’s chest and stomach.  
  
“Oh yes,” Remus groaned, jerking into Harry more firmly. “Sirius, hold onto Harry and brace yourself.”  
  
“Take it easy on the boy,” Sirius muttered, still out of breath, but Harry could feel him complying with Remus’s request and widening his stance slightly to support them both.  
  
Remus started to pound deeply and roughly into Harry, leaving Sirius clinging on for dear life to keep Harry in place, with at least every other thrust managing to rub hard against Harry’s prostate. Despite the battering, despite the fact that he had already come three times that day – and the last time was less than ten minutes ago – Harry’s prick was fighting to make it further than half-mast. At Remus’s continued with his frantic fucking, Harry thought that he shouldn’t be surprised if he was split in two, and he had no doubt that he’d be having problems sitting down for the next few days. Just as Harry was starting to acknowledge the pain coming from behind, from his wrists, and from his legs that were threatening to seize up with cramp, Remus gave one last almighty jerk and stilled, biting hard at Harry’s neck as he did so.  
  
A cold draft hit Harry’s back as Remus withdrew and stepped back to take out his wand and dissolve the rope. Without its support, Harry’s arms slumped around Sirius’s shoulders. Sirius staggered slightly under the weight, and Harry could see Remus walking on shaky legs to the bed where he laid down heavily.  
  
“Bring Harry over here,” Remus murmured. “Carry him to the bed, Sirius.”  
  
As soon as Harry hit the mattress, Remus pulled him close, spooning behind him and kissing the marks left across Harry’s back and neck. Harry let out a soft noise of contentment and snuggled into Remus’s arms.  
  
“I hope this wears off,” Sirius said, and Harry looked up to see him frowning at them both. “I don’t appreciate being supplanted by a younger model.”  
  
Reaching out with one hand, Harry dragged Sirius down to join them. “Sorry,” he mumbled, placing a kiss on his godfather’s lips.  
  
“Just warn us next time you test anything out for Fred and George, all right?”  
  
“Yeah, okay.”  
  
Harry looked at Sirius questioningly as a look of amazement passed over his godfather’s face.  
  
“I can’t believe it. After all that, and you’re hard again.”  
  
Smiling seductively, Harry reached out for Sirius’s hand and lowered it to his erection. Sirius didn’t hesitate, stroking Harry’s cock firmly and leaning forward for a lazy kiss. _God, this potion is fantastic,_ Harry thought as he came for a fourth time that day. _I’ve just got to work out a way to get some more._ By the time he had got his breath back, Harry could hear Remus snoring fitfully behind him.  
  
“You should sneak out while he’s sleeping,” Sirius said. “Going by the last time he was like this, he should be out for the count for at least half an hour.”  
  
“You don’t think he’d want to keep going once he wakes up, do you?”  
  
“Hell, yeah – he wouldn’t stop until your potion wore off. Which reminds me; didn’t you say something about getting an antidote from Fred and George?”  
  
“Yeah. I’d better go there now.”  
  
Harry dressed gingerly and sighed at the state of his t-shirt; he still hadn’t got the hang of the _Reparo_ charm when it came to fabrics, and he asked Sirius to help. As it turned out, Sirius wasn’t much better, and Harry’s t-shirt still looked stretched down the middle and was frayed at the top and bottom once Sirius had finished.  
  
Sirius offered to walk Harry to Zonko’s, and they exited the shack. To Harry’s surprise, it was already starting to get dark.  
  
“I guess I’d better go straight back to Hogwarts,” Harry said, beginning to panic at just how late it was.  
  
Sirius nodded. “I’ll still come with you, in case you get into trouble. I’ll say it was my fault.”  
  
“If it’s any consolation,” Sirius said as they walked up the driveway to the castle, “Remus will be racked with guilt in the morning over what he’s done, even though he’s just been working on instinct.”  
  
“Well tell him not to: I enjoyed it,” Harry said, and he leaned in to catch Sirius off-guard with a kiss. “ _All_ of it,” he added. “But don’t worry; I don’t intend to supplant you, or Remus, as a replacement younger model.”  
  
As quietly as they could, they pulled open the heavy, oak front doors and stepped inside the deserted entrance hall. Harry hoped he would be able to make it to Gryffindor Tower without encountering anyone, but at the top of the first stairway, Professor McGonagall loomed down upon them.  
  
“Ah, there you are, Potter,” she said sternly. She sniffed and wrinkled her nose, stopping before she came too close to Harry. “Your friends have been very worried about you.”  
  
“Sorry. I’m okay. I’ve er…” Harry faltered, not knowing what to say.  
  
“Sorry, Minerva,” Sirius intervened. “Remus and I whisked him away earlier and we lost track of time.”  
  
“That was very thoughtless of you, Sirius. At your age, you should be setting Harry an example, not leading him astray. I must admit, I’d expect this from you, Sirius, but not from Remus; I’ll be having a word with him when I see him next.” She turned to face Harry once more, still with a look of disgust. “In future, Potter, try not to worry everyone unnecessarily. Dinner is about to start, so will you _please_ have a shower – _before_ you come down to dinner.”  
  
She began to escort Sirius back down the stairs, leaving Harry to go on his way alone. To his relief, he didn’t meet anyone else on his way up through the corridors. Although he was hungry, he had no intention of going down to dinner. Instead, he planned to take a shower and have a well-deserved sleep.  
  
Most of the Gryffindors were in the common room, including Ron and Hermione, Ron’s nose still looking swollen. Harry grinned sheepishly at them, parroting the excuse that Sirius gave to McGonagall when they asked where he had been all afternoon.  
  
“The potion still hasn’t worn off; so I’m not going to go down for dinner tonight,” Harry said. “Can you bring me up some food?”  
  
“I can’t,” Ron said. “I’ve got a detention after dinner because of that fight with Malfoy.”  
  
“I’ll do it,” Hermione offered. “When are you going to get the antidote, Harry?”  
  
“Er, I guess if this hasn’t worn off in the morning, I might owl Fred and George and ask them to post it to me – and tell them to tone the potion down a little, make it less smelly.” Harry tried not to grin as he realised that would be the perfect excuse to get some more potion.  
  
Harry climbed the stairs to the dormitory slowly, now really starting to feel the effects of his earlier activities. He had spent so much time hanging by his wrists from the rafters, with his legs wrapped around Remus’s shoulders, followed by Sirius’s waist, it had left him feeling decidedly stretched and not just in the obvious places. He was exhausted. Taking off his coat, he lay down on the bed to rest for a few moments, intending to take a shower and get changed before the others came back. The next thing he knew, Harry was woken from sleep by the sound of a startled gasp. He opened his bleary eyes to see Hermione and Seamus staring down at him.  
  
Sitting up in surprise, he winced at the soreness from Remus’s earlier heavy pounding. Hermione and Seamus were still looking at him, with twin expressions of shock, apparently speechless.  
  
“Harry, what happened to you this afternoon?” Hermione asked, her hand straying towards one of Harry’s rope-burned wrists, which also held a smattering of finger-shaped bruises. “What have you been doing with Sirius and Remus to end up like this?”  
  
“Er, we were just messing around,” Harry replied weakly.  
  
“Harry Potter, don’t you dare try to fob me off with some half-beat excuse! Look at the state of your t-shirt, for a start.”  
  
Harry obediently looked down at the frayed mess of cotton. He cringed when he saw a crusty residue of come smeared across the bottom that he and Sirius had failed to clean off earlier – whether it was his or Sirius’s he couldn’t say.  
  
“Just what have you got down your front?” Hermione asked. “And your neck is covered in marks – bruises and what looks like bite marks.”  
  
Seamus peered closer. “Harry, I didn’t give you any love bites earlier,” he exclaimed. He clapped a hand to his mouth and glanced at Hermione, realising what he had just revealed.  
  
Harry blanched and remained mute on the bed. How on earth was he going to get out of this one?


	4. Chapter 4

  
None of them spoke for a moment. Harry’s mind was racing trying to come up with a plausible story, yet in the end, he settled for a half-truth.  
  
“Remus had a bad reaction to a potion,” he paused, staring pointedly at Hermione, “and sort of took it out on me.”  
  
“Oh my heavens! Harry, we need to get you to the hospital wing straight away. I can’t believe he bit you! Did he break the skin? How close is it to the full moon anyway?”  
  
Harry cut off her rambling concern. “I’ll be fine. It wasn’t anything that Sirius and I couldn’t handle, and I’m not hurt at all.” Hermione glared at him. “Seriously, it looks a lot worse than it is.”  
  
The way Hermione was looking at the rope marks on his wrists, it was obvious that she didn’t believe him, but she turned her attention to Seamus, placing her hands on her hips. “And what exactly were you doing that _didn’t_ involve love bites?”  
  
“I’m sure it’s nothing that you need to know about, Hermione,” answered Seamus, shifting uncomfortably.  
  
Harry could almost see the wheels turning inside Hermione’s brain. He wished he hadn’t confessed earlier that he preferred boys, because it was only a matter of time before she put Seamus’s slip of the tongue, the alarming state of Harry’s body and his lunchtime confession together and realized exactly what he’d been up to that day. Damn – why had he fallen asleep?  
  
Wanting to interrupt Hermione’s train of thought, he quickly asked, “Did you bring me something to eat? I’m starving.”  
  
Hermione handed him a plate of food, and as she did so, Harry noticed Seamus backing away towards Ron’s bed, trying to remain unnoticed. The second Hermione handed Harry the plate, a loud “ _Obliviate_ ” echoed through the room.  
  
“Seamus!” Harry gasped. Seamus waved frantically behind Hermione’s back, silently begging Harry not to say anything.  
  
“Harry’s got his food now,” Seamus said to Hermione. “You’d better leave the boys’ dormitory.”  
  
Hermione seemed dazed and confused. “Leave, yes. I should go now,” she said vaguely.  
  
“Thanks, Hermione,” called Harry as Seamus led her to the circular stairway.  
  
When Seamus reappeared, Harry asked, “How in Merlin’s name did you learn to do memory charms?”  
  
Seamus grinned. “Well, me dad’s a Muggle, you know, and he brings quite a few of his Muggle friends home upon occasion, so me mam’s been teaching me to cast memory charms since I was about ten. You’ve no idea how handy they are when there’s Muggles around.”  
  
Harry furrowed his brow. “Is Hermione going to be all right? You sure you know what you’re doing, mate?”  
  
“She’ll be fine. I started practicing a while ago on old Muggles. If you mess up and erase too much, no one knows the difference, see; they just think the old geezer is going senile. But I’ve got it pretty well refined now. I reckon she only remembers walking into the room and handing you that food.”  
  
“You probably shouldn’t have done that,” said Harry, “but thanks. It was going to make things awkward between the two of us.”  
  
“It’s the least I could do since I seem to have botched up the cleaning spell earlier. Sorry about that, Harry. Besides, I’ve been trying to get into Parvati’s knickers for two months now, and I didn’t want Hermione jumping to the wrong conclusion about us and spreading that rumour to the other girls.”  
  
Harry declined Seamus’s offer to help him shower, and hurried off to do so before Ron and the others came back to the dormitory. He wasn’t sure how long the potion would last, but he was now so sore that the idea of any more sex that day was decidedly unappealing. As he massaged his aching muscles under the stream of hot water, he thought about his experiences of the day. He’d gone from being a virgin to having had four partners in less than twenty-four hours. He was relieved that none of them knew about any of the others – apart from Sirius and Remus, and he could blame that on the potion and Remus’s lycanthropy. He didn’t want to get a reputation as a floosie, after all.  
  
That evening, he wrote a letter to Fred and George.  
  
  
 _Dear F & G ~_

__

 

_Sorry I didn’t get back to Zonko’s for the potion antidote this afternoon. I ran into_  
Remus and Sirius, and they had some things to discuss with me that took longer than  
I thought they would. Could you please send the antidote back with Hedwig? 

__

 

_Also, having had a full day to evaluate the effects of the potion, I believe you might_  
have made it a bit too strong this time. Perhaps the thing to do is to keep it that  
strength, but have me experiment with dosage amounts. If you sent me a few more  
vials, then I could try out different amounts and determine where there is the best  
balance between repelling girls and not attracting boys, since not all of your  
customers may appreciate that particular side effect. 

__

 

_~ Harry_

__

 

_P.S. You may also need to put a warning label on it suggesting that it not be used on or  
near werewolves, as the effect of the potion’s smell may lead to unpredictable results.  
If you have questions about this, I suggest you ask Remus._  
  
  
**  
  
The parcel from Fred and George arrived two days later. The Anti-Pheromone potion had worn off after about twelve hours, so Harry no longer needed the antidote, but he was most thrilled to see that the twins had taken his suggestion and included half a dozen vials of experimental potion with instructions on how to scientifically test it. Harry decided he’d use their method, but instead of discarding the unused potion from each of the vials, he’d just keep the extra in his own personal stores. With this much potion, he should be having all the sex he could ever want.  
  
As fun as it was to try new things with different boys… and men, what he really wanted was to use the potion to attract Ron. So he didn’t take it straight away; he decided to wait until he and Ron could spend some time alone when they wouldn’t be interrupted.  
  
The opportunity came about a week later. Hermione was stressed about an Ancient Runes project that was due the next week, and she had announced her intention to spend the entire evening in the library. Harry and Ron had Quidditch practice, and not much in the way of homework to do afterwards.  
  
They were about two thirds of the way through practice when Harry took the Anti-Pheromone potion: fifty percent of the dose he’d taken on the day of the Hogsmeade visit. He wanted to make certain that it was fully effective when practice was over, when he could detain Ron for a while in the changing rooms.  
  
It was starting to get dark, and Harry knew that practice would be called soon, so he dashed off to find the Snitch. After some searching, he saw it glittering near the hoops that Ron was defending. As Harry weaved in and out of the goal posts chasing the Snitch, he failed to notice Ron’s eyes upon him, tracking his every move.  
  
It wasn’t until he heard a loud thud and a scream of pain that Harry paid any attention to Ron at all. Ron had been hit in the face with a Bludger because he’d been watching Harry instead of the Beaters. Ron managed to stay on his broom, but blood was gushing from his nose, and he was losing altitude quickly.  
  
Harry raced over to his friend and pulled up alongside of him. The injury looked really bad; Harry was certain Ron’s nose had been broken. Jostling him a bit, Harry managed to get Ron’s free arm around his shoulder, and he slipped his hand around Ron’s waist. Together they flew up to the castle, landing on the balcony just outside the hospital wing corridor. They hobbled down the hallway with some difficulty, leaving a trail of Ron’s blood behind them.  
  
As he suspected, Ron’s nose had been broken by the impact of the Bludger. Of course, a broken nose was no challenge for Madam Pomfrey, and Harry was relieved that there were no other injuries. Inside he groaned, though, to think that another opportunity to try out the Anti-Pheromone potion on Ron had been wasted.  
  
Once Ron had been cleaned up and settled into a bed to wait for the swelling in his face to go down, Madam Pomfrey threw Harry out of the hospital wing with a strong suggestion that he take a shower. It was then that he remembered the potion again and realized he would be a most unwelcome dinner companion. He went directly back to Gryffindor Tower and took a shower, even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good against the smell.  
  
He was dressing when Neville entered the dormitory, carrying some food.  
  
“I heard what happened on the Quidditch pitch earlier, so I brought you and Ron some dinner,” Neville said. “Is he still in the hospital wing?”  
  
“Yeah, broken nose. He’ll be in there for a couple of hours yet. Thanks for the food, Neville.” Harry took a few steps toward Neville, noticing a strange expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Neville blushed. “I...er...nothing’s wrong.” He paused a moment. “It’s just that, um, your eyes are so… they’re something else. And your lips… your lips too. I-I’ve wanted to kiss them. For ages.”  
  
When Neville didn’t drop his gaze but continued to look Harry in the eye, he realized right away that the potion was making Neville bolder than usual. Even though the strength was reduced, Neville’s reaction must have been stronger because he was already attracted to Harry.  
  
Harry’s eyes raked over Neville’s form; he’d become fairly attractive during the past year. Would it be so bad to experiment with him now that Ron was incapacitated? No, but he’d better be honest.  
  
“I wouldn’t mind kissing you,” said Harry quietly, “but I’m, er, kind of interested in someone else.”  
  
Neville nodded knowingly. “I figured that, and I don’t have any idea why Ron is so thick about it. He’s never been very observant, though. The last thing you need is for me to mess things up for you.”  
  
Harry was disappointed that Neville had given up so easily. Perhaps if Harry just levelled with him, he could get some action out of the deal yet. He took a step closer, so that they were nearly touching. Neville _had_ to be able to smell him from here.  
  
“You know, Neville,” said Harry in a sultry voice, “there’s really nothing going on between me and Ron, yet, so if you wanted to, er, fool around a bit, there’s no reason we shouldn’t. I mean, as long as you understand that it’s not, um, romantic or anything.”  
  
Neville’s eyes were shiny with lust. “Really? You’d do that… with me?”  
  
Harry pulled him close, clasping his hands together behind the other boy’s neck. “I’ve always liked you a lot. I’ve got loads of things I want to try. We could learn together. That is, if you think we can still be mates like normal after messing around.”  
  
“God, yes. I’ll try anything with you. Just as mates – no mushy stuff.”  
  
Harry leaned in and kissed Neville softly on the lips, the way Sirius had kissed him before. It was not tentative, but affectionate. Neville’s kisses were awkward and wet, reminding Harry that, even with only one very active day of sex, he was still the experienced one. But what Neville lacked in experience, he made up for in sheer enthusiasm, and it wasn’t long before he found several sensitive spots on Harry’s ears and neck.  
  
They were lucky that, just before Dean Thomas burst into the dormitory, he shouted down the stairway asking Seamus to bring him a book. When Harry and Neville heard Dean’s booming voice, they broke apart quickly and raced to sit far apart on Harry’s bed. Harry picked up the plate of food Neville had brought him, resting it on his oddly bulging lap, while Neville grabbed Harry’s Charms book, which he’d left lying there before Quidditch practice. Neville’s lips were red and slightly swollen, but Dean noticed nothing out of the ordinary when he entered the room.  
  
“What’s the word on Ron?” Dean asked, pausing at the foot of Harry’s four-poster.  
  
Harry swallowed the bite he’d been chewing. “Broken nose. He’ll be right as rain before morning, though. Has to stay in the hospital wing until the swelling goes down.”  
  
“Damn. Lucky he didn’t fall off his broom, eh?” Dean muttered as he flopped onto his bed and began rummaging through his book bag.  
  
Harry and Neville smirked at each other, neither one certain of the best course of action. Harry motioned to Neville to lean forward, and when he did, Harry whispered, “Meet me at the north end of the outside corridor in an hour.” To make his intentions clear, Harry licked the shell of Neville’s ear quickly before pulling away.  
  
Neville was shocked, but clearly pleased, so he nodded and moved to his own bed. It seemed like the longest hour of his entire life.  
  
**  
  
“Harry?” whispered Neville. He’d been standing at the end of the corridor for a minute, and thought perhaps Harry was hiding in the shadows and didn’t see him.  
  
From out of nowhere, something grabbed Neville’s hand and pulled him into a darkened alcove. Harry lowered the hood of his Invisibility Cloak.  
  
“Your head floating like that… That’s just creepy,” Neville hissed. Harry grinned as he opened up the cloak and wrapped it around Neville as well.  
  
“Covering two people used to work a lot better when I was eleven,” murmured Harry. “Crouch down a bit so you’re my height. We don’t want anyone to see our feet.”  
  
“Where are we going?”  
  
“Not far – just one floor down.” Harry slid an arm around Neville, who did the same in return. They had to walk slowly so as not to trip on each other, and they stopped three or four times in the stairway as other students passed them.  
  
Harry opened the door to a large supply closet. It was tidy, with several old crates resting side-by-side in the corner like a bench. He pulled Neville inside and shut the door, locking it with a _Colloportus_ spell.  
  
“Give us some light, would you?” Harry asked Neville. A faint, bluish light shone from the tip of Neville’s wand. Harry moved Neville’s hand to direct the wand light towards the crates, which he promptly transfigured into a camp-bed. “There’s not enough room for a real bed, but this will be more comfortable than the floor.”  
  
Neville smiled. “How’d you find this place?”  
  
“Ernie Macmillan told me about it last year. Filch doesn’t use it – because he’s a Squib, he can’t get past the charm on the door.” Harry moved over towards the bed, tossing the Invisibility Cloak on the floor next to it. “Is this still okay?”  
  
Neville answered by pressing his lips decisively against Harry’s. “It’s more than okay. I—I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I’ll try anything.”  
  
“Me neither, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out.”  
  
Harry removed his school robe quickly, letting it drop to the floor. He’d hoped Neville would follow his lead, but when he didn’t, Harry unfastened the clasp of his robe too, pausing only to kiss Neville before casting it into the pile. A few more slightly awkward movements had them totally naked and lounging on the newly transfigured bed.  
  
Neville was nuzzling Harry’s neck, taking deep breaths between kisses and licks. Harry assumed the potion was still working, which was confirmed a few minutes later when Neville declared that he’d never smelled anything as heavenly in his whole life.  
  
Meanwhile, Harry was getting bolder with his moves and enjoying the way that his actions seemed to be the cause of Neville’s writhing and moaning. This was his first time initiating sex rather than being merely a willing participant, and he found it powerfully exciting and just as enjoyable as being on the receiving end.  
  
Harry could feel his excitement building as he rubbed his and Neville’s cocks together with one hand. Neville was breathing heavily and moaning, and Harry was certain he was close to coming as well. So it surprised Harry when he spoke.  
  
“Harry… do you want to… sh—shag me? ‘Cause, er, you said you wanted to try some new things, and—”  
  
Just the idea of it had Harry nearly coming. “Gods, Neville, I’d really like to. But, er, we’d need some lubrication or else it will really hurt. I didn’t bring any with me.”  
  
Neville looked as if he wanted to know how Harry knew it would hurt, but he was too shy to ask. Instead, he quickly said, “I know a spell. I’ll teach it to you.”  
  
“You know a lube spell?”  
  
“Yeah. Uncle Algie taught it to me last summer when he made me sit through The Talk.”  
  
Even in the dim light, Harry could tell that Neville was blushing furiously at having to confess this, and Harry couldn’t blame him one bit. He stopped moving, looking at the silhouette of Neville’s face. “Gods, you had to get The Talk? How bad was it?”  
  
Neville grimaced. “Easily as humiliating as any Potions lesson with Snape. Really, the only thing I got out of it was the Lubrication Spell.”  
  
“Go on then,” Harry said. Neville taught him the spell, and Harry tested it out by tapping his hand gently. A small amount of lubricant appeared in the palm of his hand, which he promptly spread over his fingers.  
  
Harry tried to remember what Sirius had done, and after he got over the initial weirdness of plunging his fingers into Neville’s arse, he established a nice rhythm that Neville seemed to appreciate.  
  
“Do you think you’re ready for me?” Harry asked after a minute or so.  
  
Neville was gasping for air, finding breathing difficult because Harry kept rubbing against a certain spot that had Neville seeing stars. “Don’t know. Try it, and we’ll find out.”  
  
Remembering exactly how much it had hurt when Remus had first entered him, Harry carefully spelled more lube onto his hand and rubbed it all over his cock. Then he slowly pushed into Neville, watching for signs of pain. If there was any discomfort, Neville didn’t let on, and it wasn’t long before Harry was buried deep inside him and beginning to slowly rock back and forth. He wasn’t sure if Neville would like this at all, let alone like it rough, and Harry could still recall how difficult it had been to sit the day after Remus had nearly split him in two.  
  
Neville was so tight and the friction was so intense that Harry forgot they were in a broom closet. In fact, he was so lost in the sensation that he forgot just about everything except Neville’s body, writhing beneath him. He wasn’t going to last very long, and wanting Neville’s experience to be good, he quickly slid his fist around Neville’s weeping cock. The two of them came at nearly the same moment, Neville with a loud grunt, and Harry calling out, “Merlin, yes!”  
  
They lay there, spent, with only the tip of Neville’s wand for light. Harry wasn’t sure what he should say, but it had been a brilliant experience – one that he definitely wanted to repeat in the near future. Harry couldn’t tell whether Neville was too overwhelmed to speak or if he had passed out.  
  
The door to the broom closet suddenly rattled on its hinges, and Harry and Neville scrambled off the bed, realising that someone had discovered their presence. Harry found his trousers and quickly pulled them on, but Neville’s seemed to be tangled up in his robe. They heard someone cast “Alohomora”, but thankfully, that spell didn’t work against _Colloportus_. Harry was able to pull his school robe on, but Neville was still having problems. Unable to do anything else to help him, Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak off the floor and threw it over Neville just as the door to the closet flew open.  
  
Didn’t it just figure that it would be Draco Malfoy.  
  
“Well, well, what have we got here? Up to a little mischief, Potter? Couldn’t find a private place to wank?”  
  
Harry realized the scenario looked ridiculous; there was no sign of a partner, but he obviously looked thoroughly shagged and dishevelled. And there was the matter of the transfigured bed. “So what’s it to you if I’m here?” he said defiantly.  
  
Malfoy smiled evilly. “It’s nothing to me, of course. But as a school prefect, I’m obliged to make sure that students follow the rules, and you and your mystery partner are most definitely out of bounds.”  
  
“There’s no one else here. What makes you think I had a partner?”  
  
“Potter,” said Malfoy with gleaming eyes, “the whole school could have heard you in here. There were definitely two voices, and it didn’t sound as if you were having tea.”  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that his and Neville’s extra clothes had disappeared, presumably under the Invisibility Cloak. The only things on the floor were Harry’s shoes.  
  
“You’ll have a hell of a time proving it, Malfoy, so if you don’t mind, just leave me alone.”  
  
Malfoy finally came close enough to get a strong whiff of Harry. His demeanour softened while his eyes raked over Harry’s debauched features. “Course, I might be willing to overlook this infraction if I got a turn…”  
  
Harry’s cock twitched in agreement with that suggestion, but luckily his brain remembered that Neville was sitting on the makeshift bed, watching his every move. “I’d rather serve detention.”  
  
Malfoy’s eyes narrowed, and he was obviously insulted. “You have one minute, Potter, before I summon McGonagall. I suggest you use the time to haul your arse back to your dormitory like a good little Gryffindor.” Malfoy turned on his heel, and Harry heard his footsteps retreating down the hall.  
  
“You’d better keep that on until we get to the dormitory,” Harry whispered to Neville. “If I know Malfoy, he’s pretending to leave so he can spy on us and see who’s in here with me. Go on, and I’ll meet you at the Fat Lady to let you in after I change the bed back.”  
  
Neville’s invisible lips brushed against Harry’s as he passed. Harry quickly ended the transfiguration spell and shoved his feet into his trainers before bolting out the door.  
  
**  
  
He should have known the relaxed feeling he’d gotten from having sex was too good to be true. A note arrived for Harry in the morning owl post, informing him that his detention for being out of bounds would be served with Professor Snape after dinner. Harry was sure that meant hours of menial labour to be done without his wand. He had no idea whether Malfoy had said that he suspected Harry of having sex in that broom closet, but regardless, he knew Snape would go out of his way to make him as miserable as possible.  
  
Harry fretted over his pending detention the whole day. He ought to have gotten used to detention with Snape after all these years, but it seemed as if the Potions Master’s temper had gotten worse over the summer, and he was more than a little worried about Snape’s propensity for vengeance.  
  
Needing to change his jumper after dinner, he stopped off in his dormitory before reporting to the dungeons. A vial of Anti-Pheromone potion caught his eye just as he turned to leave. Harry recalled that during his first experience with the experimental potion – the one that lasted several days – Snape had actually behaved civilly to him. What if he took a small amount of it now? He doubted that the potion would be strong enough to overcome the strong feelings of hatred the two of them shared, but perhaps it would make Snape a bit more lenient on the punishment. It was worth a try, anyway.  
  
Harry downed about a third of the potion in the vial and headed off to serve his penance.  
  
With a deep breath, Harry crossed the threshold into the Potions classroom. He was surprised to see that Snape was not alone, and then groaned inwardly when he realized it was Draco Malfoy.  
  
“Potter,” spat Snape, “you’re late. I cannot afford to waste my time waiting for you all evening.”  
  
Harry fought to keep his angry comments in check – it would not do to anger Snape any more than he’d already done. “Sorry, sir.” Harry strode to Snape’s desk at the front of the room and stood as close to him as possible without being obvious. He needed Snape to get a good whiff of that potion.  
  
Snape glared at him, but said nothing right away, which Harry took to be a good sign. There was a strange look on Snape’s face that Harry couldn’t read, and this left him slightly worried. When Snape spoke to him, he jumped.  
  
“I have been called to confer with Professor Dumbledore this evening,” Snape said coolly. “You will clean the cauldrons and tools in the workroom and wipe down the desks. Mr. Malfoy has agreed to stay here in order to ensure that no magic is used.”  
  
“But sir,” asked Harry in a panic, “couldn’t we simply reschedule to a different day?” He thought that having to endure a couple of hours of Malfoy’s taunts was far worse than having to clean grimy cauldrons.  
  
Snape seemed surprised by Harry’s request, but he did not hurl his usual insults. “I’m afraid not, Potter. I need this classroom cleaned up for tomorrow’s lessons and will not have time to do it myself. I suggest you stop whinging and get on with it.” With a flurry of robes, Snape disappeared out the door of the classroom, leaving behind a miserable Harry Potter and a gleeful Draco Malfoy.


	5. Chapter 5

Harry was not in the mood to deal with Malfoy that evening, and yet he was going to have to put up with the annoying bastard for several hours. Several hours of being under Malfoy’s _supervision_. Not saying a word, Harry collected together a bucket of soapy water, a cloth and a scrubbing brush, and started to work, trying his best to ignore Malfoy completely.  
  
It didn’t take Malfoy long to start interfering, and Harry bit his lip and continued to scrub at the desks as Malfoy leaned over to point out all the patches that he said Harry would have to do again. _If only I had taken more of the potion,_ Harry thought, _perhaps he wouldn’t be so damn irritating._  
  
“You did say that you’d rather have detention,” Malfoy drawled over his shoulder. “You could always have both, you know.”  
  
“Fuck you, Malfoy.”  
  
“So, you’ve changed your mind then?”  
  
Harry glared at him over the top of the bucket. He might have been open to the idea yesterday, but right now, with that arrogant look on Malfoy’s face, Harry was not about to give him the satisfaction.  
  
“You might want to reconsider, Potter,” Malfoy said, smirking at the look of contempt that Harry threw in his direction. “After all, as a Slytherin, I’m always open to a bit of bribery and corruption _if_ I serve to benefit from it. Do you want to make a deal?”  
  
“A deal?” Harry asked, although he had a pretty good idea at what Malfoy was getting at. “What sort of deal?”  
  
“You get down on your knees for me, and I’ll consider letting you use magic,” Malfoy said, and he illustrated his point with a flick of his wand, muttering a spell and deftly cleaning up the tools stacked on the front desk. “Snape won’t know any different.”  
  
Harry was stunned that Malfoy actually had the gall to offer his help in exchange for sexual favours, but Harry was not going to lower himself to that. “Go find someone else to fill out your perverted fantasies, Malfoy: I’m not whoring myself out for you.”  
  
Malfoy stared down at Harry with pure loathing before pulling up a chair to sit in a sullen silence as Harry continued to work. For the next half an hour, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of Harry cleaning with a determined effort so he could leave there as soon as possible. So far, all the desks had been scrubbed and there only remained five dirty cauldrons.  
  
Malfoy had evidently grown impatient, and he started to pace the classroom, checking over all that Harry had done. Glancing up, Harry had a sudden rush of paranoia at the self-satisfied smirk that had appeared on Malfoy’s face. Harry paused briefly to watch as Malfoy peered into the dirty cauldrons. He saw Malfoy’s hand come to rest on the lip of one and start to rock it gently back and forth.  
  
“This one is still half-full, Potter,” Malfoy said, raising his eyebrows mischievously. “It would be such a shame if—” A swift tug to the cauldron sent it toppling over, drenching several desks, the tools, and a couple of the cleaned cauldrons. “Oops. Guess you’ll have to clean them all again.”  
  
Their eyes met, and Harry knew that Malfoy was going to continue prolonging his detention until Harry agreed to do what Malfoy wanted, or until Snape returned to find the workroom still in a mess.  
  
“Fine!” Harry snapped, feeling the anger swell up inside him. He stood up and pushed Malfoy against the wall. “But before I do _anything,_ all of this has got to be spotless.”  
  
Malfoy frowned. “Oh yeah, and what’s to stop you from walking out once it’s all been done?”  
  
“Don’t be so obtuse, Malfoy; I know full well you’d mess it up again the instant I left.”  
  
“What’s stopping me from doing that anyway?” Malfoy asked, with another smug expression plastered across his face.  
  
“The knowledge that this will definitely be the last chance you’ll ever have to get my mouth around your cock,” Harry said, leaning closer so their faces were only a hair’s breadth apart. Reaching down, Harry rubbed the front of Malfoy’s trousers, feeling Malfoy’s cock begin to stiffen. “You’ll enjoy this, and if you screw me over afterwards, any opportunity you might have for…second helpings, you can kiss goodbye.”  
  
“You’re sure of yourself, aren’t you, Potter,” Malfoy said, and he pushed his hips up to press against Harry’s hand more firmly. “You think you’re that good?”  
  
“You’ll have to let me clean this up with magic first,” Harry said, motioning to the mess in the classroom with his free hand, “if you want to find out.”  
  
He had yet to give anyone a blow job, but Harry was sure he could improvise well enough. George and Remus had given him two memorable experiences that he could draw from, and he began to harden at the thought of what each of them had done to his cock. And if Malfoy did choose to welsh on the deal, Harry would use the potion to make sure Malfoy wanted him so badly that he’d regret his decision. He leant in, as if he was going to kiss Malfoy, but at the last moment, he gave a quick squeeze of his hand before moving away and drawing his wand.  
  
It only took him a few seconds to clean everything. Malfoy watched him, leaning against Snape’s desk, his hands resting either side on the wooden surface.  
  
“Come on then, Potter; show me just what a good little whore you can be.”  
  
Pocketing his wand, Harry stepped closer, reaching out to unbuckle Malfoy’s belt. He tried to ignore the fact that he was quite turned on by Malfoy’s words, even though they also left him wanting to punch the boy. He undid the button at the top of Malfoy’s trousers and slowly pulled the zip downwards so that each individual click could be heard. Flicking his eyes up, he found Malfoy looking at him in awe and breathing heavily. Another click and Malfoy’s hands were suddenly entwined in Harry’s hair, pulling him forwards for a bruising kiss.  
  
As the zip lowered and their kiss deepened, Harry could feel Malfoy’s cock jutting out and brushing against his hands; Malfoy had nothing on underneath, and this knowledge sent a shiver up Harry’s spine. When the zipper reached its lowest point, Harry gave the trousers a tug to send them falling to the floor. He ran a thumb along the underside of Malfoy’s cock, prompting Malfoy to gasp around his mouth in response. Wrapping his hand fully around Malfoy’s cock, Harry began to stroke it, hoping that he might get away with a hand job, but Malfoy instantly tugged on Harry’s hair, pulling his head back. Malfoy raised his eyebrows and then pointedly looked down. There was no escaping what Harry had to do next.  
  
Reluctantly, he sunk to his knees, Malfoy’s hands still entangled in his hair. Just in case Malfoy had any idea about fucking his mouth properly, Harry kept one hand in place around the base of Malfoy’s cock; that way Malfoy wouldn’t be able to force too much into his mouth. Harry stared at the erection that was only inches away from his face, fuming that he had been reduced to doing this just to get through his detention. He fully intended to get Malfoy back at a later date; he could drink a whole bottle – or even two – of potion and make Malfoy beg to be fucked into the floor by him.  
  
He started with light flicks of his tongue across the head, letting himself get used to the taste, and tried to see the positive side of what was happening: never having done this before, it was good to have someone to practice on whom he didn’t care about. Harry then went on to press smacking kisses along the length as he squeezed rhythmically with his hand. Hearing Malfoy’s groans of pleasure spurred Harry on, and he did his best to get this over and done with, and make him come as quickly as possible.  
  
Sliding his other hand up the inside of Malfoy’s thigh to toy with his balls, Harry sucked gently on the end of Malfoy’s cock and began to stroke it, faster and faster, back and forth in time with his mouth bobbing over the head.  
  
“Oh, God, Potter!”  
  
When he felt Malfoy’s hips begin to jerk, Harry tried to draw back with the intent of finishing him off by hand, but he couldn’t move his head away: Malfoy had tightened his grip in Harry’s hair, using it to keep his head firmly in place.  
  
“Oh no you don’t, Potter,” Malfoy said as Harry winced at the tug on his scalp. “I’m going to come in your mouth.”  
  
He was _definitely_ going to make Malfoy regret this. In defiance, Harry let his teeth catch on the edge of Malfoy’s foreskin, but he instantly regretted his action when it triggered Malfoy’s orgasm.  
  
Harry gagged around Malfoy’s cock as spurts of bitter-tasting come filled his mouth. The instant Malfoy finished coming and had released his hold on Harry’s head, Harry pulled away, spitting the contents of his mouth onto the floor. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand in disgust.  
  
“Clear that up, Potter, and you can go,” Malfoy said, retrieving a cloth from the table and throwing it on the floor in front of Harry.  
  
Harry scowled at Malfoy’s look of post-orgasmic bliss and picked up the cloth. He quickly cleared the mess and put away the cleaning equipment, not wanting to stay there any longer than necessary.  
  
“Potter,” Malfoy called out just as Harry was leaving. “I’ll be looking forward to those ‘second helpings’ you promised.”  
  
 _Just you wait,_ Harry thought. _You won’t know what’s hit you._  
  
**  
  
At breakfast the following morning, Harry was pleased to see that Malfoy appeared uncomfortable with what had happened. Several times, Harry caught Malfoy gazing in his direction with a frown. Malfoy would then turn away, refusing to make eye contact with Harry and shifting awkwardly in his seat.  
  
As he was eating, two owls arrived for Harry. One brought a letter from Sirius and Remus that said the twins had been asking awkward questions and had made out they knew more than they did. But Sirius and Remus had rightly guessed that Harry wouldn’t have given them any details. The second was from Fred and George. Harry groaned; even though they hadn’t been told what had happened, it was clear they knew that Remus had made some sort of sexual advance towards Harry, and they were determined to find out exactly what had occurred.  
  
Harry then shuddered as he read the rest of their letter; they suggested he might want to consider testing the potion on other magical beings and to let the twins know if he had the same “problems”. Despite the insinuation – made in jest, or so Harry hoped – that Hagrid, being a half-giant, or one of the Hogwarts’ house elves could be likely candidates, at least the twins hadn’t tried to blackmail him into further experimentation.  
  
To Harry’s surprise, that day’s lessons were spent revising previous work and no homework was given out. There was no Quidditch practise due for that evening, either, and Ron had fully recovered from his broken nose. So tonight, without fail, would be the night; he was going to seduce Ron.  
  
After dinner, Harry showered and dressed, downing three-quarters of a vial of potion before walking down to the common room with the intention of whisking Ron away to the Room of Requirement. He had barely said Ron’s name to get his attention when Professor McGonagall came striding into the room, looking very displeased.  
  
“Why are none of you in the Great Hall?” she asked, addressing everyone in the room. When she was greeted with a sea of confused expressions, she added, “The talk on Gringotts, for work experience?”  
  
The students continued to look at her blankly, and she searched through the faces to find one in particular. Fixing her gaze on Hermione, she said, “Miss Granger, did you not inform your housemates? I asked you over a week ago to write up a summary and put it on the common room notice board.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Professor, but are you sure it was me you asked?” Hermione said, clearly not having a clue what McGonagall was talking about.  
  
“Yes!” McGonagall looked at her sternly. “Really, Ms. Granger; I’m being to wonder if you’re taking on too much work again. We need to have a talk about the subjects you are doing and consider whether there are any that you could drop.”  
  
“I’m fine, Professor, honestly!” Hermione pleaded, looking horror struck at the thought of having to give up a subject. “I… I just forgot. I’m, er, sorry, Professor.”  
  
McGonagall tutted in disappointment and spoke again to the rest of the room. “Never mind. Everybody in the sixth year, please go down to the hall; the rest of the school is waiting for you so we can begin.”  
  
On the way down the stairs, Harry exchanged a guilty glance with Seamus; they both guessed what had happened. Hermione had probably been told shortly before Seamus had obliviated her. It was their fault she hadn’t done what McGonagall had asked her.  
  
“What’s up with you, not remembering something like that?” Ron asked Hermione.  
  
She sighed in frustration and said, “I don’t know, but I honestly can’t remember being asked to do it – this talk is as much a surprise to me as everyone else, but Professor McGonagall wouldn’t be wrong about who she asked...”  
  
“She might; she might just be getting dotty in her old age.”  
  
Hermione stopped walking for a moment and rubbed at her temples.  
  
“Hermione, are you all right?” Harry asked.  
  
“I’ve got a bit of a headache, that’s all,” she said and then looked up at him with a grimace. “Harry, you really need to have a wash.”  
  
They entered the Hall, and Harry found himself being pulled to the front by the other Gryffindor boys; as it was Ron’s brother, Bill, who was giving the talk, Ron was keen to sit in the first row so he could say hello. In the end, Harry was squished between Seamus and Neville. Ron was stuck on the end, and he didn’t look happy, which left Harry worried that it meant Ron felt uncomfortable by the effect of the potion. Hermione made a point of sitting further back, away from Harry, as did all the other girls who were originally sitting nearby.  
  
The sixth years were all expected to undertake some form of work experience over the summer holidays, and this was the first of a series of talks they would be getting concerning the options available to them. Bill explained the variety of work carried out by Gringotts, the selection of work experience positions that were available and how each of those positions could be useful in other areas of the Wizarding world.  
  
Throughout the talk, Harry found that Bill’s eyes were constantly flicking back to where Harry was sitting, only feet away. Harry smiled to himself, not paying attention to anything that was being said. With his long hair and dangling earring, Bill was too much of a distraction; Harry had had a crush on him ever since they’d first met at The Burrow.  
  
Harry’s thoughts were brought out of the gutter, though, when Dumbledore rose to address the sixth years.  
  
“The next talk will be about the sorts of jobs involved within a Quidditch team, with regards to the paperwork and maintenance of the grounds, and work of a similar nature. Please keep an eye on your notice boards: more details will be posted there nearer the time.”  
  
Standing up to leave, Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Bill.  
  
“Harry, could I have a word?”  
  
Harry nodded and prised himself away from the others, telling them he’d join them in the common room shortly.  
  
“Some of these work experience placements won’t be suitable,” Bill explained to Harry, “as they won’t be able to offer you adequate protection. But you won’t have to worry about that at Gringotts.”  
  
Harry really wasn’t too bothered by the thought of doing work experience at Gringotts, preferring the idea of working for a Quidditch team – even though he knew whatever he’d be doing wouldn’t involve flying. But he guessed, sadly, that there was no chance of that happening: he couldn’t see how Dumbledore would be able to organise the necessary safeguards.  
  
“Thanks for letting me know,” he said, noticing that they were standing less than a foot apart and Bill had started to breathe quite heavily. “It’s good to see you haven’t taken your mum’s advice and chopped your hair.”  
  
“Oh, so you _do_ like it; you managed to side-step the question when Mum asked you about it last year.”  
  
“Yeah, I do like it…a lot, and the earring,” Harry felt a sudden thrill at being able to flirt openly with Ron’s oldest brother. Even though Bill was firmly attached to Fleur Delacour, there was no reason why Harry couldn’t have a bit of harmless fun before he went back up to Gryffindor Tower. “I think they’re both very…appealing,” he added with a suggestive smirk.  
  
“Are you coming on to me, Harry Potter?” Bill asked, the corners of his lips twitching upwards.  
  
“Do you mind?” Harry asked innocently, knowing that some part of Bill was enjoying this; the potion made sure of that.  
  
“Not at all.” Bill shook his head in amusement. He looked thoughtful for a moment and then added in a whisper, “In fact, if you’re interested, would you like to come back with me tonight?” He smiled nervously. “Fleur keeps pestering me to invite another man into our bed – so she can watch – but I’ve never felt the inclination…until today. We’re staying at The Three Broomsticks, and I’m sure I could smuggle you out of the castle for a few hours.”  
  
“I…er,” Harry mumbled; he certainly wasn’t expecting to do so well with the flirting. Damn, he wanted Bill, but he still had high hopes for Ron that night. Perhaps, he could keep Bill in reserve, just in case Ron wasn’t available. “I’ve got to go back to the dormitory, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to get back out without the others noticing. Wait for me in the Entrance Hall. If I can come, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He walked towards the doors and then stopped, turning round to add, “If I don’t make it, I’ll send you an owl; perhaps, we can arrange it for another night.”  
  
When he arrived back in the common room, Harry found the others sitting around a board game that was reminiscent of the Muggle game Monopoly. It was the Goblin’s equivalent and had been mentioned during the talk; Bill had left a stack of games at the back of the hall for anyone to use. They had already starting playing, and Harry was disappointed to see that Ron was thoroughly engrossed.  
  
“You can still join in, Harry,” Seamus said, moving over so that Harry could sit next to him.  
  
“Nah, I’m tired,” Harry said. He left them to play and went upstairs, putting on his Invisibility Cloak and closing the curtains around his bed before making his way down to the Entrance Hall.  
  
He found Bill fidgeting by the front doors; it looked as if Bill was contemplating the idea of backing down on his offer. As Harry drew close, under his Cloak, he heard Bill muttering to himself, “What am I doing? God…I can’t.”  
  
A pebble made contact with Harry’s shoe and rolled away to clatter across the stone tiles. Bill snapped his head up, looking around for the source of the noise.  
  
“It’s me,” Harry said by Bill’s shoulder, making him jump. Harry then pulled open the Cloak so that Bill could see him and smiled, stepping closer to let the potion take its effect on Bill once more.  
  
They wandered down to The Three Broomsticks together in silence. Although the thought of having Fleur watch them was a bit unsettling, Harry was surprised that the idea did not repulse him; if anything, it was rather titillating.  
  
Bill opened the door to his room, and Harry saw Fleur curled up on a chair reading, wearing blue silk pyjamas.  
  
“’allo Bill,” she said fondly, placing her book on the floor. “’Ow did it go at ‘ogwarts?”  
  
“Okay… Um, Fleur…I’ve… I’ve found someone,” Bill said. “You know you said you wanted to see me with another man. Well…anyway, you remember Harry Potter?”  
  
Harry stepped forward and pulled off the Cloak.  
  
“Ah, yes, ‘allo ‘arry.” Harry winced when he saw her nose begin to wrinkle; in his enthusiasm, he had forgotten about how Fleur would react to the potion. “What is zat smell?”  
  
“That would be me,” Harry said awkwardly, and Bill looked at him with a curious frown. “It’s a potion that I’m testing for Fred and George – to repel women. But they did a spell on Hermione before, so she couldn’t smell anything…”  
  
“Okay,” Bill said, still frowning at Harry, and he cast the necessary charm on Fleur.  
  
“I watch you tonight, yes?” Fleur asked.  
  
“Oui,” Bill said shyly, his eyes boring deep into Fleur’s. His delicate lips parted ever so slightly around the word, and Harry found himself wondering what it would be like to have someone muttering in French in his ear; it wouldn’t matter what they said, as he wouldn’t understand it, but he was sure the sound would turn him on.  
  
“I’m going to take a shower,” Bill said, looking up at Harry. “Do you want one?”  
  
“No. I had one just after dinner.”  
  
Bill disappeared into the bathroom, and Harry sat on the edge of the bed, not knowing what to say to Fleur. She smiled sweetly at him and started to talk about working for Gringotts, asking if Harry was interested. He sighed with relief at having such a neutral topic to discuss and was busy chatting with her about Goblins by the time Bill joined them.  
  
Apart from a small towel that was wrapped around his waist, Bill was naked. Harry could see that Bill was already hard by the way the towel jutted out at the front. Harry licked his lips in anticipation as Bill dried his hair with his wand and fixed it into a ponytail. Looking at all that skin, Harry suddenly felt overdressed. He’d never seen a real man’s chest before; when he had been with Remus and Sirius, they had both kept their shirts on. It was much broader than any of the boys’ in his dorm, but it was just as smooth as Neville’s. He briefly wondered if Sirius and Remus were built the same way.  
  
Noticing that Fleur was looking at them both expectantly, Harry stood up and kissed Bill.  
  
Bill was hesitant at first, like Neville, but far more experienced in his movements. He soon began to kiss Harry with more enthusiasm, though, and Harry pulled him close, pressing their bodies together, letting their cocks grind against each other through towel and fabric. As he kissed up Bill’s neck, gently taking Bill’s fang earring in mouth and swiping his tongue across the earlobe, Harry realised that Bill smelt just like Ron did whenever he was fresh from the showers; it was very easy to close his eyes and imagine for a moment that it was Ron.  
  
Together, they stumbled towards the bed, falling onto it, their lips never breaking contact. Bill slipped his hands under Harry’s shirt, his arms getting in the way as Harry fumbled to undress himself.  
  
“Look at ‘arry’s cock, Bill,” Fleur said once Harry was naked and Bill’s towel discarded on the floor. “I gezz ‘arry izn’t a leetle boy any longer, eh?” Startled, Harry’s head jerked up in her direction, where she was still sitting; he had completely forgotten she was in the room. “Touch ‘im. Play wiz ‘im.”  
  
Bill looked unsure as he got to his knees and stared down at Harry’s naked body. Harry then realised that Fleur wouldn’t be able to see any of the action if they remained where they were; he scooted up the bed and lay back on the pillows, spreading his legs wide and patting the space next to him so that Bill would approach him from the side. Lying there for Bill’s perusal and having both Fleur and Bill looking at him, Harry felt very exposed, and it excited him thoroughly. He spread his legs a little wider. Harry was shocked by how much he _wanted_ Fleur to see every little detail – just as he had wanted Fred to watch him and George in Hogsmeade.  
  
He gasped as Bill reached over to trace his hand tentatively down Harry’s chest, across his stomach, and then along the line of dark hair, towards his groin. His touch was feather-light, his fingers skirting the sides of Harry’s cock, dipping lower to cup his balls and then back up to wrap them around Harry’s cock, which jerked in his hand.  
  
“Bill…” Fleur said, her voice starting to sound husky, “wiz your mouth…”  
  
Harry looked up at Fleur. Her eyes were now heavy lidded, never straying from Harry’s crotch and the attentions that Bill was paying to it; her mouth parted slightly, letting out soft breaths. He could see one of her hands underneath her pyjama top, its outline moving under the silky material as she massaged her breast; her other hand slid down the front of her trousers.  
  
His attention was tugged back to the bed as Bill ran quivering lips along his cock, and Harry had to restrain himself from arching up at the painfully delicate touch; he certainly didn’t want to put Bill off by jabbing him in the eye. Bill’s pony tail fell down on the side of his face, the tips of it draping over Harry’s belly, drawing a moan from Harry’s lips. Curling his hands in the sheets to resist the temptation of just grabbing Bill’s head and forcing him down, Harry wondered for a moment whether Bill really felt as timid as he seemed, or if he knew exactly how mercilessly he was teasing Harry.  
  
“’arry, what does eet feel like?” Fleur asked.  
  
“It’s good… really good,” Harry panted, “but… I need more… firmer… harder. More decisive.”  
  
“Zen show ‘im ‘ow it’s done.”  
  
They changed places and Harry leant over to take Bill deeply into his mouth, pressing his tongue firmly against the flesh. Bill let out a heavy groan as Harry started to move his head and suck harder. Then he ran a hand under Bill’s thigh, drawing the leg up and out, and he shifted over to hook the leg across his back. Bill gave a startled gasp when Harry pressed a soft kiss to his entrance followed by a probing tongue.  
  
“Do you want to fuck my lover, ‘arry?”  
  
“Yes,” Harry murmured against Bill’s skin.  
  
“Zen get on your ‘ands and knees, Bill,” Fleur ordered breathlessly. “Let me see ‘arry prepare you.”  
  
Bill complied immediately, shivering in anticipation. Using the lubrication spell that Neville had taught him, Harry knelt to one side and began running his finger slowly up and down the crack of Bill’s arse, pausing to run small circles across Bill’s entrance, before finally sinking his the tip inside. Bill whimpered as Harry pushed the finger further and further inwards, then adding a second, slowly stretching him.  
  
By the time he had his cock pressed against Bill, Harry was almost ready to come. He looked up, catching movement out of the corner of his eye; Fleur was moving her chair to the side of the bed and had retrieved a long, cock-shaped object from the drawer in the process. She tapped her wand on it, muttering, “ _Vibratio_ ,” before slipping it down the front of her trousers. Going by the look on her face, Harry reckoned that that was a spell worth remembering.  
  
He pushed forwards, easing into Bill and concentrating hard not to just drive inwards forcefully, as Remus had done. He was so close…too close; there was no way that this was going to last long. Fully sheathed, he leant forward to drag his tongue up Bill’s spine and began to move his hips, moaning softly. At the same time, he reached round and worked at Bill’s cock with his hand, following the same rhythm as his thrusts. It was only seconds before all three of them were coming, one after the other.  
  
Bill and Harry slumped onto the bed together, Harry rolling onto his back and looking up as Fleur joined them to lie up against Bill.  
  
“Are you staying, ‘arry?” she asked.  
  
“No,” he said. Watching the way Bill and Fleur’s bodies were now pressed together, Harry couldn’t help but feel like he was now intruding on their privacy. “I should be getting back to the castle.”  
  
He stood and dressed, smiling when Bill pulled him back for one last kiss. Having sex with Weasleys was starting to become addictive, but hopefully, the next Weasley he had the chance to get intimate with would be Ron.  
  
**  
  
Yet, another week passed with no opportunity to get Ron alone. It was dinnertime and the other Gryffindors were talking about challenging the Hufflepuffs to a game of Goblin’s monopoly, after having gained permission to use one of the classrooms for this. Only half-listening to the conversation, Harry was immersed in his Transfiguration text-book; he was now using every spare moment to keep up with his homework in the hope that it would provide more time to seduce Ron.  
  
“Are you finished yet, Harry?” Ron asked.  
  
Harry looked up to find the rest of them with empty plates. He closed his book and hurriedly ate the rest of his dinner.  
  
“What’s the rush?” he asked as he stood up, slinging his bag over one shoulder.  
  
“The game with the Hufflepuffs,” Seamus said. “Are you going to join in?”  
  
Harry responded with a noncommittal shrug. He knew that Ron would want to go, but if he could take the potion and get Ron on his own beforehand, Harry might be able to persuade him to do otherwise. But Harry needed a shower, first, and he opted against taking the potion immediately when Seamus said he would be taking a shower, as well; Harry didn’t want to get waylaid by Seamus’s Irish charms.  
  
After he had finished washing, Harry was dismayed to find Ron waiting by the door, ready to go. There was no way Harry would be able to drink a vial of potion without Ron noticing.  
  
“Go ahead without me,” Harry said, slumping down on the bed. “I don’t fancy playing.”  
  
He felt frustrated and annoyed that his plans had been ruined, yet again. But his mood began to brighten when he realised there was someone he could take it out on: Malfoy. The Slytherins were having Quidditch practise today, and if Harry picked his moment right, he could pin Malfoy down in the changing rooms. He took out one vial and drank it; then he smiled slyly and reached for a second, drinking half of it. He wanted to make sure that Malfoy would be on his knees begging Harry for sex. But just as he was ready to leave, he heard a loud crack, and he turned to see Dobby standing next to his bed and holding his Transfiguration text-book.  
  
“Harry Potter left his book in the Hall,” Dobby said, walking forward to hand him the book. “Dobby wished to return it, sir.”  
  
“Thanks, Dobby,” Harry said, and he did a double-take at the expression on Dobby’s face. Dobby was looking at him strangely – more strangely than was usual for the wide-eyed house elf – and this reminded Harry of what Fred and George had written in their last owl about Hagrid and…house elves. “Are you okay, Dobby?” he asked tentatively.  
  
“Yes, sir; Dobby is most happy serving at Hogwarts. And Dobby wishes to make Harry Potter happy, too.”  
  
Dobby reached up with a spindly hand to touch the fabric of Harry’s trousers, just above his knee, and Harry jumped backwards in shock. “Dobby, what are you doing?”  
  
“Would sir prefer it if Dobby looked different?” Dobby said, stepping forward once more. “Dobby knows how much Harry Potter wants his Wheezy. Dobby can _become_ Harry Potter’s Wheezy.”  
  
Harry’s jaw dropped as Dobby clicked his fingers and instantly transformed into the likeness of his best friend. Slowly, the false image of Ron approached, and Harry’s mind reeled. Dobby wanted to have sex with him of some description, but as Ron. Harry could finally experience what it would be like to touch him, to hold him, to have Ron hold him back – and he didn’t have to worry about the others coming up to the dormitory for ages. But it wasn’t Ron; it was Dobby. He felt sick at the thought at becoming intimate with a house elf, and then he thought of the effect on Remus Lupin and wondered whether Dobby would accept it if he were to say no. And yet, Ron’s face was so close…  
  
“Does Harry Potter want this?” Dobby said in Ron’s voice.  
  
Hearing what were unmistakeably Dobby’s words coming from Ron’s mouth jarred him. What did he want? Could he really do this?


	6. Chapter 6

In his moment of indecision, Harry was overcome with a feeling of déjà vu – of relinquishing control of his mind to someone else. He’d fought the Imperius Curse then, and he’d fight this…this…whatever it was that was allowing him to even consider having sex with a house elf.  
  
“No,” he said firmly, “I don’t want this. I appreciate you wanting to help me, but you’re not Ron and it’s not right for students to, um, do things like that with house elves.”  
  
Dobby immediately switched back to his usual form and cast a woeful gaze at Harry. “Dobby meant no harm. Dobby only wants Harry Potter to be safe and happy.”  
  
Harry felt horribly guilty, which was probably the only thing standing between him and complete revulsion at the idea that he’d even considered sleeping with a house elf, even one who did look like Ron. He couldn’t bear the pathetic tennis-ball eyes glaring at him, so he thanked Dobby for bringing up his book and ordered him back down to the kitchen.  
  
He glanced out of the window and was able to catch sight of several Slytherins flying over the Quidditch pitch. Harry was on a mission now – his mood had become even nastier, and he was going to take it out on Malfoy. He would pay for his little power trip, and Harry would have the last laugh.  
  
Harry slipped out of the castle unseen and made his way to the pitch. It appeared the team was in the midst of a practice drill that was, no doubt, meant to cause injury to the Gryffindor Chasers. No matter – they were better prepared than ever to take whatever illegal moves Slytherin was planning to dish out to them. He settled into a seat in the stands, not caring whether he was seen watching, and hoping that his presence would distract them.  
  
Sure enough, Malfoy raced towards him a few minutes later. From a distance he shouted, “Don’t you have anything better to do that sit there and ogle my arse, Potter?”  
  
Harry smirked but said nothing. It was better to let Malfoy think he was being ignored so he’d come over and get a good whiff of the potion. It worked like a charm: once Malfoy got within ten feet of Harry, his eyes glazed over and his jaw dropped. He came closer, and Harry could see a glint of lust in his eye. Oh yeah, the potion was working exactly the way he wanted.  
  
“Be careful when your mouth is hanging open like that, Malfoy. Someone might think you’re trying to catch flies.”  
  
Malfoy closed his mouth quickly and landed on the bench not far from where Harry was sitting. Harry could see him swallow, and the growing bulge in Malfoy’s trousers was hard to miss.  
  
“Just what do you mean by showing up here and disrupting our practice?” spat Malfoy. The fact that he licked his lips enticingly after saying this kept him from being the least bit menacing.  
  
Harry shrugged. “It’s a lovely evening, my homework is done, and I’m enjoying the great outdoors. By all means, don’t let me keep you from your practice.”  
  
Instead of leaving, however, Malfoy took a step forward so that he was close enough to touch Harry. He was gulping great breaths of air and looking around to see if anyone was watching. “Of course,” he said quietly, “if you hang around here a while longer, I’ll be finished, and we can see about those ‘second helpings’ you were offering up at detention last week.”  
  
Harry reached out to rub Malfoy’s erection through his trousers. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Draco?” Harry stood so that they were looking eye to eye. “I bet you’d love to feel my mouth sucking you dry. Or maybe you’d like the feel of my hand pumping your cock while mine pounds into your shapely arse.”  
  
“Fuck, Potter.”  
  
“Well, yes, that was the general idea. Now why don’t you run along and catch the Snitch, and when you’re done, I’ll let you ask me nicely for what you want.”  
  
Malfoy reluctantly pulled away and tried to mount his broom, but he was so hard that he had to sit off to one side, looking thoroughly ridiculous. Harry laughed as he watched Malfoy speed away, now hell bent to finish practice as soon as he could.  
  
When it looked as though the Slytherins were wrapping things up, Harry left the stands and headed towards the changing rooms. He didn’t want Malfoy’s teammates to see him, figuring that he’d consumed far too much of the Anti-Pheromone Potion to avoid the notice of the other Slytherin boys. He ducked under the last set of stands, where he could see but not necessarily be seen while waiting for them to leave.  
  
“Well, isn’t this a surprise?” asked a silky smooth voice coming from the shadows. “Let me guess. You’re nervous about the match and you’ve come to do a bit of spying on Slytherin?”  
  
Harry had heard that voice before, but he couldn’t place it. “Come out in the open if you want to talk to me,” he called. He quickly palmed his wand, just in case.  
  
Blaise Zabini emerged, his face framed by long mane of windswept brown hair. He stepped close to Harry, who couldn’t help but notice the way Blaise was checking him out. Harry’s eyes raked over Blaise’s body as well – he could certainly do a lot worse.  
  
Harry didn’t know Blaise all that well – compared to the other Slytherins – he was aloof and seemed to deliberately set himself apart from them. As far as Harry knew, his parents were not Death Eaters, and he’d never insulted Harry to his face either.  
  
“Zabini.”  
  
“Potter. You haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”  
  
“You’re right – I was just checking out the competition. But I wasn’t spying; I was sitting out there in plain sight. What are _you_ doing here?”  
  
Blaise moved closer, and the feral look in his eyes reminded Harry of just how much potion he’d taken. When he was only inches from Harry, he finally stopped. “I had the idea of persuading a certain Seeker to let me have my way with him, but now that _you’re_ here, perhaps I should select a different Seeker altogether.”  
  
Harry licked his lips and swallowed. He hadn’t really intended to have sex for pleasure this evening – it was going to be all about revenge. But Blaise was looking damn good to him at the moment. Still, he was a Slytherin, so extreme caution was necessary.  
  
“What makes you think I’d be interested?”  
  
A grin spread across Blaise’s face. “Just call it a hunch. Draco hasn’t been able to stop talking about you for a week, so whatever happened during that little detention episode of yours seems to have made quite an impression on him.”  
  
“Nothing happened,” lied Harry quickly. “I cleaned cauldrons and scrubbed desks. Malfoy was a pain in the arse the whole time.”  
  
“Right. Whatever you say,” Blaise answered with a smirk. “So perhaps I should just ask you directly – are you interested?”  
  
Harry had had enough dealings with Slytherins to know that he shouldn’t give a straight answer, even though his cock was trying to make its interest quite clear. “I wouldn’t want to come between you and Malfoy.”  
  
The instant those words left his mouth, Harry knew his accidental double entendre would be caught. Sure enough, Blaise replied, “Well, that’s a disappointment, because I think that making you come between Draco and me would be quite…gratifying.” Blaise boldly reached out and ran his fingertips down Harry’s chest, rubbing the taut nipple through the thin material of his shirt.  
  
“Suppose I was interested. What did you have in mind?” Harry focused on keeping his breath steady; on not letting Blaise know that his words and actions were affecting him. He did notice that Blaise’s pupils had dilated and he appeared to be sporting a sizable erection as well.  
  
Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Well, Potter, correct me if I’m wrong, but I’d peg you as a natural top, which means that this is your lucky day, since I definitely prefer to bottom. Although, Draco tells me all the time that I top from the bottom, whatever he means by that. So what I’m offering is a lovely piece of Zabini arse, yours for the taking.”  
  
Harry liked the sound of that offer – a lot. “A Slytherin never offers something for nothing – are you taking the piss?”  
  
Blaise stared at him in disbelief for a moment, and then a sly grin slowly crossed his face. “You think like a Slytherin – I’m impressed. Well, there might be one small thing…” Harry could feel Blaise’s breath ghosting across his cheek. “You need to make it good for me.” He leaned in and slid his tongue across Harry’s lower lip.  
  
“Meaning…”  
  
“Meaning you have to let me come first. Can’t let you leave me high and dry, can I?” Blaise captured Harry’s lips in an open-mouthed kiss, leaving no doubt that, if he agreed, Harry would be amply rewarded for his efforts.  
  
“You make it hard to refuse,” moaned Harry as Blaise playfully licked and bit his throat.  
  
“Yes, it’s very hard,” muttered Blaise. “God, you smell good enough to eat.”  
  
He grabbed Harry’s hand and led him back to the shadows. When Harry opened his mouth to protest, Blaise covered it with his, and thrust his tongue inside for good measure. While Blaise snogged him senseless, Harry could hear the Slytherin Quidditch team pass by, chatting noisily amongst themselves and completely oblivious to their presence.  
  
After the Quidditch team had passed, Blaise took off his robes and laid them out on the ground. Then he cast a spell that created a bright blue fire for warmth, which Harry recognized as the same one Hermione frequently used. Harry wasn’t wearing robes, and he quickly jerked his shirt over his head, not particularly caring whether Blaise was watching. Reaching down, he slipped off his trainers and removed his socks. Blaise _had_ been watching, and he was soon all over Harry’s backside, stroking his heated flesh with practiced hands. Blaise spun him around to face him and held him close, licking the soft skin of Harry’s muscular shoulder while pulling on Harry’s arse and grinding their cocks together through their jeans.  
  
“What do we have going—Blaise?” drawled the familiar voice of Draco Malfoy. Harry immediately stilled, but Blaise continued about his business, which at the moment had to do with sucking each of Harry’s fingers in turn.  
  
“Sod off, Malfoy,” hissed Harry.  
  
Draco leaned up against the scaffolding of the bleachers, grasping a horizontal beam with both hands. Harry thought Malfoy might be in shock, and the beam was the only reason he was still standing.  
  
“Blaise, darling, do you have any idea what a wanton slut Potter is? He was up in the stands not twenty minutes ago offering himself to me, but he’s so desperate for a shag that he had to proposition the first person with a cock to walk by. Did he tell you how he was gagging for it during his detention last week?” Malfoy wore a smirk that did a very poor job of hiding his annoyance.  
  
Harry shot Malfoy a disbelieving look. “For your information, Blaise and I had a very civil conversation with no threats or blackmail involved. Anyway, I believe it was you who was going to ask me nicely for ‘second helpings’.”  
  
Blaise had not paused in his exploration of Harry’s body, and was now making quite a show of unfastening the zipper to Harry’s trousers and sliding a hand down the back. “Mmmm, no pants. Nice.”  
  
Draco was no longer trying to mask his irritation at Blaise’s complete refusal to acknowledge his presence. “Unfortunately for you two, as a school prefect, I have a duty to make sure that all the rules are followed. So I’m afraid I’m going to have to—”  
  
In an instant, Blaise had drawn his wand and called “ _Ferula_ ,” causing ropes to quickly bind Malfoy’s wrists to the beam he was holding. Harry could see him struggle against the ropes in the dim blue light from the fire.  
  
“Zabini, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Malfoy shouted crossly.  
  
“I’m trying to get Potter undressed so he can fuck me, but your big fat mouth is distracting him. So just put a sock in it, Draco.” With that, he flicked his wand, causing one of Harry’s socks to wad up and jam itself into Malfoy’s mouth.  
  
With Malfoy’s hands bound and mouth gagged, Harry realized that this situation was much better than the scenario he’d originally planned. He walked over to where Malfoy was bound and stood close enough so that there was no way Malfoy could miss the smell of the Anti-Pheromone Potion. “I think I like you best this way – bound and gagged. But don’t worry, Malfoy, because you’re in luck. If it’s all right with Blaise, I’m going to let you watch us.”  
  
Blaise smiled smugly with one eyebrow raised. “You _are_ kinky, aren’t you, Potter? Of course he can watch – perhaps he’ll learn something.”  
  
Harry was certain he heard a whimper coming from Malfoy as he turned back towards Blaise. He was so turned on by the thought of having an audience – especially one that was a bound and gagged Draco Malfoy – that he was a bit concerned about being able to keep his promise to let Blaise come first. With a low growl, he kissed Blaise deeply, all the while fumbling with Blaise’s buttons.  
  
They made a show of stripping each other – not only for Malfoy’s benefit, but also because Harry found it unbelievably arousing. Blaise lay down on top of his robes, his legs spread wide and his cock jutting straight up. Harry’s eyes swept over the tempting sight as he contemplated the best way to please Blaise and drive Malfoy insane at the same time. He settled between Blaise’s legs, leaning over to graze Blaise’s skin with lips and tongue, stopping frequently to thoroughly explore the ridges and hollows of his jaw and neck. Blaise moaned each time Harry found a sensitive spot, which caused him to redouble his efforts, knowing that those sounds must be affecting Malfoy as much as they were him. After he discovered just how sensitive Blaise’s nipples were, Harry paid them extra attention, swirling his tongue in circles around them both until they were hardened peaks.  
  
“Fuck, that’s fantastic, Potter.” His breathing was ragged as he arched up towards Harry’s mouth.  
  
Harry shifted to kiss him hard on the lips. “Just trying to make it good for you. That was our deal, right?”  
  
Harry glanced over at Malfoy, who was watching their every move. Their eyes met, and Harry maintained eye contact with Malfoy as he moved to take most of Blaise’s prick into his mouth. Blaise groaned, and Malfoy let out a muffled cry of frustration, and he must have been thinking that it could have been his cock in that mouth if only he hadn’t lost his temper.  
  
Harry continued to lick and suck and bob his head up and down on Blaise’s cock. He was focused on putting on a good show, with Blaise being the fortunate beneficiary of the never-ending competition between Malfoy and Harry.  
  
“Did you know that the Slytherins all call you ‘Wonder Boy’?” panted Blaise. “They’ve no idea... No wonder Draco can’t stop talking about you.”  
  
Hearing Blaise’s voice thick with lust reminded Harry of just how turned on he was. “What about your end of the deal?” he asked playfully.  
  
“I thought my end _was_ the deal. Whenever you’re ready…”  
  
In an instant, Harry had muttered the lubricant spell and was sliding a finger into Blaise’s hole. He wiggled it around a bit until he got the reaction he was looking for.  
  
“God, Potter!”  
  
Harry could see Malfoy’s eyes open wide at Blaise’s outburst, and it gave him an idea. “Tell me, Blaise, are you a talker? Because I think Mr. Malfoy would have a much better experience if he could hear us as well as see us.”  
  
A wide grin spread across Blaise’s face at Harry’s words, but it was promptly replaced by a grimace as Harry slipped another finger inside of him. Blaise took two deep breaths and replied loudly, “You think he’d want to know…how good it f-feels to have you fuck me with – nguh – your fingers? That you’re – God – making me see stars?” Harry scissored his fingers inside Blaise, eliciting a sexy moan. “Fuck me now... _please_.”  
  
“You see what happens if you ask nicely, Malfoy?” said Harry as he conjured more lube and slicked up his cock, making sure that Malfoy could see his every move.  
  
Grabbing Blaise’s hip with one hand, Harry guided his cock into Blaise’s hole with the other. As Harry entered him, Blaise let out a stifled cry. He was not nearly as tight as Bill or Neville, and Harry found that he could fully sheath himself in one fluid motion. Still, the stimulation was nearly overwhelming, and Harry had to take several deep breaths to calm himself before he could continue.  
  
“Move, Potter. God… _please_.”  
  
“You’re amazing,” said Harry roughly. “I’m going to…t-try a few angles. Tell me…when I get the spot.”  
  
Harry shifted positions and was rewarded with a loud moan after the fourth try; Blaise was soon whimpering and bucking his hips with each thrust of Harry’s. Not knowing how much longer he could hold off his own orgasm, he slipped a fist around Blaise’s cock and pumped vigorously. Blaise was uttering a continuous stream of barely recognizable phrases, all of which seemed to indicate that he was very close.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see Malfoy’s hips moving in the same rhythm as his, wide-eyed and distressed with his mouth gagged. The sight encouraged Harry to fuck Blaise even harder, to go even deeper, and it wasn’t long before Blaise came with a shout, shooting his seed all over Harry’s hand and stomach. His end of the bargain fulfilled, Harry thrust a few more times before spilling deep inside Blaise.  
  
Harry collapsed next to Blaise, breathing heavily and still feeling the euphoria from his orgasm. Blaise reached over to kiss him, running his long fingers across Harry’s spine.  
  
“That was one of the best fucks I ever had,” gushed Blaise enthusiastically. “Are all Gryffindors this good, or are you the exception?”  
  
There was no way Harry was going to answer that question. “I have no idea. Be fun to find out, though, wouldn’t it?” he said with a grin.  
  
They kissed for another minute or so, until Harry decided it was getting late – he’d be missed soon. He started to dress, and was nearly done before he realized his sock was still in Malfoy’s mouth.  
  
Harry walked over to where Malfoy stood; he was looking uncomfortable and livid but still very aroused. Harry pulled the sock from Malfoy’s mouth and glared at him, challenging him to say something.  
  
“How dare you keep me tied up like this!” he growled. “I’ll have you in detention for a week. More if I can swing it. And him too.” He glanced over at Blaise, who was unhurriedly pulling on his jeans.  
  
Harry eyed him smugly. “No you won’t. Because if I land in detention, I’ll just have a chat with Professor Dumbledore. And we’ll dump my memory of the last detention in his pensieve. He can judge for himself whether you harassed another student. It could cost you your precious prefect’s badge, and we know you wouldn’t want to lose _that_.”  
  
Malfoy spluttered several expletives at him, knowing full well that Harry wasn’t likely to be bluffing.  
  
“Besides,” said Harry, rubbing Malfoy’s erection firmly through his trousers, “all signs indicate that you rather _liked_ watching me fuck Blaise.” Harry pulled his hand away, causing Malfoy to whimper in a most undignified manner. Harry glanced over at Blaise who was unable to hold back his smirk.  
  
“Please, Potter,” Malfoy said in a desperate whisper, “I-I’m so hard, I’m going to die here.”  
  
At last, the begging that Harry was so much looking forward to was tumbling from Malfoy’s lips. However, now that Harry was completely sated, he really couldn’t be bothered to do anything for Draco. Still, he could mess with Malfoy’s head, and that would be fun.  
  
“Did I just hear you beg, Malfoy?” Draco shrugged, which was as close to a yes as Harry thought he’d be able to get.  
  
Harry moved so that he was just inches from Malfoy’s body. He ran his tongue over Draco’s lips and then pulled back again, not wanting to give Malfoy the satisfaction of touching him. Harry said, “And what, exactly, are you begging for?”  
  
“Touch me. Make me come. God, anything.”  
  
Harry glanced over to Blaise, who winked. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it? You just have to learn to beg me for what you want.”  
  
Harry slowly lowered the tab of Malfoy’s zipper. Malfoy’s breathing sped up, and he jerked his hips to try to make contact with Harry’s hand. Harry remembered how turned on Sirius had become by his first attempt at dirty talk. He idly wondered whether he could make Draco come just by his words.  
  
“You liked watching us, didn’t you, Malfoy?” he breathed in Draco’s ear. “Did you like it better when I sucked him off? Or when I fucked him with my fingers? Or maybe it was when I pounded his arse so hard he couldn’t speak properly?” Harry finished with Malfoy’s zipper and lowered his trousers just far enough to expose his cock. It was hard and hot and sticky at the tip where it was leaking pre-come.  
  
“All of it…’s’all good.”  
  
Harry smiled. “Did you want it to be you instead of Blaise? Did you want me to spread you open wide and find that spot to make _you_ see stars?”  
  
“Bloody fucking tease,” muttered Malfoy in frustration.  
  
Harry looked at Blaise again. “Is he always this insolent when he begs?”  
  
“Malfoys do not beg,” said Blaise and Draco at the same time. Harry and Blaise snickered, but Malfoy was clearly not amused. Harry got the impression that Blaise was enjoying watching Harry say things to Draco that he’d probably wanted to say himself for years.  
  
“Oh. Okay. Was there anything else you wanted, Malfoy? Because I really should be getting up to the castle.” Harry started to turn away, but abruptly halted when he heard Draco’s pleading cry.  
  
“Wait! Potter, I want…I would appreciate your mouth. On me. Please?”  
  
Harry turned back to Malfoy and kissed him thoroughly, slipping his tongue inside to do battle with Draco’s. Meanwhile, he reached down to cup Malfoy’s balls with one hand and to wrap his fingers around his shaft with the other. Malfoy moaned into Harry’s mouth.  
  
Remembering how sensitive Malfoy’s cock was from their last encounter, Harry nudged back the foreskin with his thumb and rubbed the slit over and over. He gave Malfoy’s sac a gentle squeeze. It was enough to send Malfoy over the edge, his body shaking with each spurt.  
  
Harry stepped back when Draco came, but he still ended up with a mess down his front. He pulled out his wand and uttered a cleaning spell. “In the future, you’ll have to learn to more specific when you beg. And more polite.” He walked over to kiss Blaise one last time.  
  
“Are you going to be all right with him?” asked Harry quietly. “I could stun him, and we could carry him back together, if you want.”  
  
Blaise seemed surprised at Harry’s offer. “No thanks. I have years of stuff to blackmail him with if I need to. Can’t guarantee your safety, though, as soon as he gets his hands on his wand. You’d better go.”  
  
Harry hurried back to the castle, turning around at the front doors to see Malfoy and Blaise emerging into the clearing. Their heads were bowed and there was a heated argument underway. _Poor Blaise deserves better than Malfoy_ , thought Harry. But knowing there was nothing he could do that wouldn’t land him in detention, he ran up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower.  
  
Harry noticed Ron immediately after stepping through the portrait hole. He’d hoped that he could just sneak up to bed, but Ron appeared to be waiting for him. Harry flashed him a cautious smile.  
  
“Hey Harry. Where’ve you been? We finished Goblin’s Monopoly ages ago – killed the Hufflepuffs, too – and I thought you might fancy a game of Wizard’s Chess.”  
  
Harry stopped as far away from Ron as he could without appearing to be unfriendly. “That’s great that you won. I was watching the Slytherins’ Quidditch practice. I think we ought to call an extra practice this week to go over defensive strategies.”  
  
Ron got out of his chair and walked over to join Harry. Harry panicked, knowing he must smell like sweat and sex and Anti-Pheromone Potion. He couldn’t run away without making it look worse, so he casually turned towards the stairs, hoping Ron wouldn’t notice.  
  
“Harry, are you all right?” asked Ron, grabbing his elbow and turning him enough to see his face. “You look like you’ve been roughed up. Here…” Ron reached up and smoothed Harry’s hair.  
  
Thanking his lucky stars that Ron hadn’t told him he looked shagged out, he almost didn’t notice Ron’s affectionate gesture and the fact that Ron had him nearly pressed up against the wall. Oh God, the potion! Of all the times to be alone with Ron, thirty minutes after being with Blaise, and with Malfoy’s come all over his shirt, was not the ideal. Not to mention that he’d be completely unable to explain wearing only one sock and no underwear!  
  
“Yeah, I sort of got into it with Malfoy down by the Quidditch pitch.”  
  
“Fighting?” Ron asked uncertainly as he pinned Harry to the wall with an arm along side each of his shoulders. He raised a hand to Harry’s face and ran his thumb across Harry’s lower lip. “It’s swollen – he hit you in the face?”  
  
Harry held back a whimper. He’d dreamed of Ron being with him like this, pressing him up against a wall and caressing his lips. But this was all wrong, and he was going to have to put a stop to it before Ron found out about Blaise.  
  
He pushed Ron away roughly, saying, “I’m fine. It was just a tousle – Blaise Zabini was there, so it didn’t get out of hand.” Harry turned and continued up the stairs, rushing into the dormitory where the other boys were already in bed.  
  
Ron followed Harry to his bed and sat himself down. “You were with Malfoy and Zabini?”  
  
“Yeah, why?” Harry did not like the tone in Ron’s voice; it worried him.  
  
Ron looked up at Harry, who was still standing. “It’s just…well, you know that Blaise Zabini is…er, well, he likes blokes.”  
  
Harry couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from turning up. _Yeah, no kidding_. “I didn’t before, but I suppose I do now,” he replied in what he hoped was a neutral tone. “And that’s a problem because…”  
  
“It’s not really a problem. I just wouldn’t want him to take advantage of you or anything.”  
  
Harry stomach was churning. Had Ron already guessed that he and Blaise had been together? And what damn business of his was it, anyway? “So what – did you think the three of us were down on the Quidditch pitch dancing?” he said angrily.  
  
“Of course not. I just—”  
  
“Thanks for your concern, Ron, but I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m tired and I’d like to go to sleep.”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Ron said as he stood up; Harry wasn’t sure whether Ron wanted to kiss him or hit him. After a moment’s hesitation, Ron did neither, but retreated to his own bed.  
  
“Goodnight,” Harry whispered. Ron didn’t answer him.  
  
**  
  
“What are you and Ron bickering about this time?” asked Hermione as Harry sat down next to her. Ron had left the Great Hall just after Harry entered and didn’t say anything to Harry as he passed.  
  
Harry helped himself to toast. “I wasn’t aware that we were bickering at all. What makes you think that?”  
  
Hermione wrinkled her nose at him, as if trying to decide whether the unpleasant odour was coming from him or someone else. “He said you came in late last night, tried to avoid him and snapped at him.”  
  
Harry sighed. “I was tired and he was acting all weird.”  
  
“Harry, you didn’t take that potion again, did you?”  
  
“No,” he lied.  
  
Hermione scrunched up her nose again. “Well, then you really do need to have a shower.”  
  
**  
  
Ron was cold towards Harry for two more days. Finally, Harry couldn’t stand it any longer and apologized, even though he had no idea what Ron thought he’d done wrong. Ron seemed almost relieved that they were on speaking terms again, which had Harry thoroughly confused.  
  
If he weren’t crazy about Ron, Harry would have dismissed him as being completely daft. As it was, he was pretty certain that _he_ was the daft one. He’d been very lucky that Ron hadn’t found out about all of his random sexual encounters. But after the other night, when Ron had him alone and pressed up against the wall, Harry realized that the tryst with Blaise had ruined what could have been the perfect opportunity to be with Ron. He wasn’t going to do that anymore. No more potion unless he and Ron had specific plans to be alone together.  
  
To that end, Harry spent the free hour he had before Charms wracking his brain to come up with a plausible activity for Ron and him to do alone together. It came to him as he glanced up at the notice board to see the announcement for that night’s talk about work experience for Quidditch teams. Harry had told Ron about seeing some of the Quidditch moves that the Slytherins were using – he could convince Ron to go to the changing rooms where there was a magical whiteboard, so they could develop defences against them before practice tomorrow.  
  
Convincing Ron to work on Quidditch strategies instead of revising took almost no effort at all. As they waited to go into their Charms lesson, there was plenty of speculation over who the speaker would be for the evening; Hermione’s notice hadn’t said. They could tell from her silence that she knew who it was, and they were determined to get the information out of her.  
  
“Well it’s Oliver Wood, if you must know,” Hermione said with an exasperated sigh. “But don’t tell anyone. Professor McGonagall is worried that if the Slytherins find out, they won’t show up for the talk.”  
  
“Okay,” said Harry. He entered the classroom and was hardly paying any attention as he daydreamed about being alone with Ron later that night. It was too bad they were going to have to listen to Oliver’s talk first, but just because working for a Quidditch team wasn’t possible for Harry, didn’t mean that Ron couldn’t. Anyway, it’d be good to see Oliver again.  
  
**  
  
“Are you going to try for this one, Harry?” asked Hermione, who had decided to sit next to him after taking a long sniff and determining that he’d just showered.  
  
“No, Bill Weasley told me Dumbledore wouldn’t allow it. You’re not going to, are you?”  
  
Hermione snorted. “Harry, you know full well that the only reason I even go to Quidditch games is to watch you and Ron. I can’t imagine anything more boring than casting cleaning spells on smelly equipment all summer.”  
  
On Harry’s other side, Ron was telling Seamus, “I really hope I get one of these positions. It’d be great to be able to hang out with the players and clean their equipment and stuff.”  
  
Oliver Wood gave an excellent talk, not that Harry realised, as he spent the time surreptitiously checking his watch every few minutes. He kept patting his pocket to make sure the vial of potion was still there. When Oliver asked for questions, Harry was discouraged to see half of the students in the room raise their hands. Damn, at this rate, they’d never get out of here.  
  
After the session was finished, Harry realized that it would be rude not to speak to Oliver, and he knew Ron would want to say hello. They chatted for a few minutes and he was finally able to drag Ron away.  
  
“Let me just run into the loo before we go,” Harry said to Ron.  
  
Ron sat on the bottom step of one of the many staircases in the Entrance Hall. “I’ll wait here.”  
  
As quickly as he could, Harry ran off to take his potion – half a vial tonight. There were only a few students about, so their chances of avoiding everyone else were fairly high. His stomach was twitching with anticipation as he strode back into the Entrance Hall.  
  
Harry should never have been so optimistic.  
  
Oliver Wood was sitting next to Ron on the stairs, and they were engrossed in a conversation about two professional Quidditch players Harry had never heard of.  
  
“Harry! Oliver was just saying that he doesn’t have practice tomorrow, so he’s offered to help us work out those anti-Slytherin strategies. You don’t mind if he joins us, do you?”  
  
Harry fought back a groan. _Yes, I do mind quite a bit, actually_. He plastered a smile on his face. “No, of course not,” he lied.  
  
If Voldemort didn’t kill Harry, then frustration over his current predicament just might. Why couldn’t it have been Alicia Spinnet giving the talk? Then the potion would have driven her off and he could have had Ron all to himself. Not that he would have minded a close encounter with Oliver Wood under other circumstances…  
  
“Come on, then,” Ron said, grabbing Harry’s arm and pulling him off in the direction of the front doors to the castle. Harry could see that his ears were flushed, which usually only happened when he was embarrassed, or angry, or…excited?  
  
Oliver was walking too closely on Harry’s left side, while Ron walked too closely on the right; it was vaguely reminiscent of that day in Hogsmeade with the twins. A fantasy image of being sandwiched between Oliver and Ron popped into his head, which was promptly replaced by another fantasy image of coming between Malfoy and Blaise, which was followed by a real memory of being buggered senseless between Remus and Sirius. Harry shuddered at the thought and then he shook his head to try to get a grip on himself.  
  
When they arrived at the changing rooms, Harry asked Ron and Oliver to sit on a bench while he diagrammed the plays he’d seen. When he turned around, neither Ron nor Oliver was looking the least bit interested in the whiteboard – they seemed to both be staring at him. Harry knew it was probably the potion, but it still gave him the creeps.  
  
“So, I was thinking our Chasers could split up,” Harry started to explain, moving the symbols on the board with his wand, “send one straight up the middle, with a Beater waiting just here…” He glanced over to see Ron looking dazed and Oliver tapping his foot rapidly. “Do you think that would work?”  
  
Oliver leaned back and scrunched up his face. “If you do that, then you’ve opened up the entire south lane to their Chasers. Which would be all right, except that you’ve moved that Beater out of position... Let me think on this a minute.”  
  
Ron got up from the bench and stood next to Harry. “Maybe the thing to do, when we see that formation, is to, er…” Ron moved the symbols in an erratic pattern that didn’t make very much sense to Harry. Ron realized he was talking nonsense and threw his hands up in frustration.  
  
“Sorry, I lost my train of thought.” Ron looked directly into Harry’s eyes and smiled. “I’m going to walk around in the fresh air for a minute to see if I can find it.” He left the room and a few seconds later Harry heard the main door slam.  
  
Oliver stood up the moment Ron left the room. When it was clear that Ron had gone outside, Oliver put a hand on one of Harry’s shoulders, in a gesture that could have been interpreted as friendly if Harry didn’t know the properties of the Anti-Pheromone Potion.  
  
“So, do you ever think of your old Quidditch captain? Because I’ve thought about you a fair few times.”  
  
He should have known Oliver would make a pass at him the moment they were alone. But why did Ron leave? And how was he going to fend off Oliver, especially when certain parts of his anatomy were definitely interested in Oliver hanging around?  
  
“Have you?” Harry responded, slightly distressed by the crack in his voice as he said it. “Well, of course we talk about you when we practice some of those Quidditch formations you developed while you were here.”  
  
“You know I’m not talking about Quidditch, although there might be four balls involved.” Oliver lowered his head to whisper into Harry’s ear, “I wonder if you taste as good as you smell.”  
  
“Oliver, I don’t think this is really the time or place…”  
  
“So then suggest a better one.” Oliver’s pupils were dilated; he licked his lips like a starving man eyeing his dinner. He moved his mouth towards Harry’s – his intentions unmistakable.  
  
Harry moved out of the way. “I don’t think this is such a goo—”  
  
“ _Stupefy_!” Ron’s spell hit Oliver square in the back, and he collapsed forward into Harry’s arms. Harry quickly laid him on the floor and turned back to face Ron.  
  
“What the hell did you do that for?” Harry shouted.  
  
“He was all over you, or didn’t you notice? Maybe you’ve just got so used to people throwing themselves at you that it didn’t register.”  
  
Harry could feel his anger rising again, but he didn’t have the energy to fight with Ron for another few days. “Ron,” he said quietly, “if you’d stopped to listen, you’d have heard me telling Oliver that I wasn’t interested in what he was suggesting. We were just talking – I hardly needed you to stun him.”  
  
Ron bit his lip, gazing at Harry with a doleful expression. “I’m sorry. I thought…well, it looked different from where I was standing. Please don’t get upset with me again. We’ve only just got over the last time.”  
  
Harry smiled at the sincerity of Ron’s apology. “I’m not upset. But next time, ask me before you go jumping to conclusions.”  
  
There was a brief moment when Harry once again had the feeling that Ron might want to kiss him, but as luck would have it, Oliver stirred in his semi-conscious state.  
  
“I suppose I should wake him,” Ron said sheepishly. “Do you think he’ll be angry?”  
  
Harry snorted. “Would you be angry if someone stunned you from behind?”  
  
Ron blanched and reluctantly ennervated Oliver.


	7. Chapter 7

ETA a dodgy link in an appropriate place... (Shocolate, be grateful it doesn't involve house elves ;-)  
  
  
  
**  
  
Oliver slowly opened his bleary eyes and reached round to rub at his back. Sitting up, he narrowed his eyes at Ron.  
  
“What the devil did you do that for?”  
  
“I… sorry,” Ron mumbled, hanging his head. “I thought you were taking advantage—”  
  
“Taking advantage?” Oliver pulled himself to his feet and towered over Ron. “Since when have you been Harry’s personal bodyguard? And what the hell are you playing at, stunning me from behind?”  
  
“I’m sorry, all right?” Ron pleaded, and his face flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. “I was only looking out for Harry.”  
  
“So Harry isn’t allowed to have any offers—” Oliver glanced between them both. “Are you two dating then? Because even so, being so bloody over-protective—”  
  
“No!” Ron spat out hastily. “We’re just friends. We’ve never… I don’t…” To Harry’s amazement, Ron’s skin managed to flush even further, and Harry felt dismayed that Ron seemed so uncomfortable by Oliver’s suggestion.  
  
“But you still think it’s your business to not let anyone even approach Harry?” Oliver continued. “He’s quite capable of turning someone down _if_ he wants to. Harry, I can see now why you said this wasn’t the time or place. I’ll owl you, and that way you can give me your answer without interference from any jealous friends.”  
  
“I’m _not_ jealous! When I walked in, it looked as if you had Harry cornered, that Harry had no choice…” Ron protested. He looked between Harry and Oliver; Oliver had stepped closer and closer to Harry since being enervated, and yet Harry had not moved away. “I’ll… I’ll leave you two alone then, as I’m not needed,” Ron snapped before marching out of the changing rooms and slamming the door behind him.  
  
Harry started and would have run after his friend had Oliver not placed a restraining hand upon his shoulder.  
  
“Leave him,” Oliver breathed against his neck. “Let him calm down.”  
  
Harry moved back to sit heavily on the bench, resting his face in his hands and feeling Oliver sitting down beside him.  
  
“Has he done this before?” Oliver asked.  
  
“He’s never walked in on someone blatantly trying it on with me. He probably didn’t appreciate what was happening…”  
  
“So you don’t think it was jealously?”  
  
“I wish, but I doubt it; it’s probably just him assuming that I’m only interested in girls.”  
  
“Is it worth me giving it another try, now that Ron’s gone?”  
  
“I should really go after him,” Harry said, hoping for a second opportunity to be alone with Ron that evening, but Harry couldn’t help feeling very tempted by Oliver.  
  
“He can wait for a while…”  
  
Harry felt Oliver’s tongue brush against his neck; perhaps Ron would need ten minutes or so to calm down. Harry turned his head and caught Oliver’s lips with his own, kissing him deeply and slowly, feeling one of Oliver’s hands travelling downwards, along his side, over his hip, and then stroking firmly across the front of his trousers.  
  
Moaning around Oliver’s mouth, Harry reached down to yank Oliver’s shirt out from where it was tucked in the top of his trousers. Sliding his hands underneath and smoothing over the skin, Harry moved his fingers up to rub across a hardened nipple. He shifted to gain better access to the front of Oliver’s trousers and was in the process of unzipping them when the door to the changing rooms swung open. Harry jumped up with a start, expecting it to be Ron.  
  
It was Seamus.  
  
“Sorry…I didn’t mean to barge in…” he said, glancing between Harry and Oliver.  
  
“It’s okay,” Harry said, and he sat back down on the bench.  
  
“Are you and Ron all right, Harry?” Seamus asked, his eyes straying to where Oliver’s hand was now rubbing up and down Harry’s upper arm. “Ron’s just stomped up to the dormitory in a foul mood, and he won’t talk about it. Have you had an argument?”  
  
“He saw Oliver coming onto me and thought I needed protecting—”  
  
“Bloody well stunned me from behind,” Oliver added.  
  
“No!” Seamus said, his eyes widening. “Harry….if Ron knew that we… would he…?”  
  
“It’s probably best not to mention it,” Harry said, getting the gist of what Seamus was saying and trying to ignore Oliver’s questioning eyebrow.  
  
“We’re mates who help each other out…” Seamus explained with a wink, and he sat down on the other side of Harry. “Walking in on you two kissing has left me with something that needs a little help…”  
  
“Er…” Harry trailed off as one of Seamus’s hands wandered up the inside of Harry’s thigh.  
  
“I don’t mind sharing,” Oliver said before leaning in to press his lips against Harry’s neck.  
  
Seamus pulled Harry close for a kiss. Their kiss deepened immediately, and Harry curled a hand around Seamus’s head, tilting it to get a better angle, then running his fingers down to the nape of Seamus’s neck to play with the tuffs of hair. With his other hand, Harry encouraged Oliver’s ministrations to his neck, shifting his head slightly to allow him more access. Then the warmth Harry felt from being sandwiched on the bench between Oliver and Seamus eased as Seamus pulled back from the kiss.  
  
“Wow, Harry,” Seamus gasped. “You’ve certainly had a bit of practice since we last did that.” Harry smiled impishly and then moaned as Oliver started to suck just behind his earlobe. “It’s good that I’m not the jealous type,” Seamus added with a wink.  
  
Oliver drew back and pulled at Harry’s shoulder, getting him to turn so Oliver could press his mouth to Harry’s. Seamus leant over to fit his head in from the side; three tongues were running over each other, three pairs of lips making contact. Then there were two hands, one on each of Harry’s thighs, moving upwards, sliding over his groin and each other. Two hands slid around his back and started to tug at his shirt, pulling it free from his trousers. The images from earlier – of threesomes with Sirius and Remus, Blaise and Malfoy, and then of Oliver and Ron – came back to him. Here was another opportunity to be sandwiched between two warm bodies.  
  
Harry fumbled with his hands, not knowing what part of which body to touch first. He was starting to feel light-headed with all the attention, and he closed his eyes, deciding to just sit back and enjoy whatever they chose to do to him. But as soon as his eyes flickered shut, Ron appeared at the forefront of his mind – Ron, who was up in the dormitory upset because of him, while he, Harry, was here enjoying himself, doing what he had planned to do with Ron.  
  
He broke the contact, pushing their arms away and saying, “I’m sorry. I…can’t… I’m just not in the mood for this.”  
  
“Pity,” Oliver said, clearly disappointed and looking at Harry with lust-glazed eyes. “If you ever change your mind, owl me.”  
  
“And you know where I am,” Seamus added.  
  
“Sorry,” Harry said again, walking across the room. He stepped into the corridor and made to close the door behind him, but hesitated. “Perhaps you two could help each other…” he began as he peered back round the door, but Oliver and Seamus were already doing just that.  
  
When Harry arrived back in the dormitory, he found Ron sitting on his bed and reading Flying with the Cannons. Harry perched nervously on the end of the bed, watching as Ron’s complexion began to flush slightly.  
  
“Are you all right?” Harry asked.  
  
Ron glanced up and then his gaze dropped to where Harry’s knee was only inches away from his feet. “I didn’t expect you to be finished with Oliver so soon,” Ron said coldly.  
  
“As I already said: just before you decided to stun him, I was telling Oliver that I wasn’t interested. I don’t want to fight, Ron.”  
  
“I don’t either.” Ron looked up, putting the book on his bedside table and shifting his legs away from Harry in the process. “I made myself look an idiot. Can we not talk about this anymore?”  
  
“Okay.” Harry drew in a deep breath; this was the moment he had been waiting for. He had taken the potion and he was alone with Ron. But before Harry could explain the real reason for wanting to go to the changing rooms, Ron spoke up.  
  
“Let’s go back to the common room. I need to ask Hermione for some help with the Potions homework.”  
  
A voice inside Harry’s head swore very loudly, but he said nothing as he followed Ron down the stairs, not wanting to upset him further after the earlier incident.  
  
Harry didn’t get the chance to approach Ron on his own again that evening. They had joined Hermione at a table in the common room, Ron waiting for Harry to sit before taking the chair that was furthest from him. Although Harry didn’t think that the tension between them was obvious, the fact he had taken some more of the potion was apparently noticeable to Hermione. She was continually screwing her nose up and leaning away from Harry until she made a trip to the loo, where Harry suspected she had placed a charm on her nose. After that, the only indication she gave was the disapproving looks that she kept flashing his way whenever Ron’s attention was directed elsewhere.  
  
**  
  
The last couple of weeks of term went by quickly, with no more opportunities for Harry to get Ron alone. The underlying tension between them was still present, but they remained on friendly terms, even though Ron was keeping his distance physically.  
  
For the Christmas holidays, Mrs Weasley invited Harry and Hermione to stay at The Burrow, mentioning that Charlie would be staying for a few days, and Fred and George would be also be spending a couple of nights around Christmas. Her letter also brought news that Bill, Fleur, Sirius and Remus would be stopping over for a meal on Christmas day. Harry tried not to think about how awkward he would feel in front of so many people with whom he had been intimate in one way or another.  
  
Harry then received a letter from Fred and George. Although they weren’t staying over for the whole Christmas period, they had offered to help Mrs Weasley with the luggage when she collected Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny from the station. They wanted Harry to bring back the empty vials with him and were keen for him to let them know how the testing was going. As soon as they had arrived at The Burrow, Fred and George whisked Harry away to their old bedroom.  
  
Once they were there and the door shut, Harry told them what the thought was the best dosage, and then he rummaged in his bag to get out the empty vials. He frowned; there was only one full bottle left.  
  
Thinking quickly, he added, “But I should really have some more vials to work out the dose more precisely.”  
  
George looked at him suspiciously. “Yeah, I bet you want more vials,” he said with a smirk. “I think you’ve had more than your fair share of fun!”  
  
“Anyway,” Fred continued, “we can’t let you have any more potion at the moment. We’ve got to send the last of the batch off to the Ministry to get approval for a patent.”  
  
“Don’t you have any more hidden away?” George asked, and Harry waved the last of the potion in his direction before hastily stuffing it back in his bag – just in case they wanted to take that one, as well. “It’ll probably be best if you save that one for when you get back to Hogwarts, either that or take it before Charlie gets here. Trust me; you don’t want to risk him getting a whiff of you when you’ve drunk some.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“George heard all about him from one of his friends who came over from Romania,” Fred explained, laughing. “Apparently, George is nowhere near as kinky as Charlie. Our older brother is a bit of an imaginative so-and-so in the sack.”  
  
“You weren’t thinking of seducing _him_ , were you?” George said suspiciously.  
  
“No!” Harry said. He hadn’t even considered it, and now that he only had a small amount of potion left, he had every intention of saving that for Ron.  
  
**  
  
Although he and Ron had a room alone together, Harry still didn’t get any opportunities to take advantage using the potion. Everyday, they were in the company of Hermione and Ginny, and were usually up quite late, talking, playing exploding snap – or studying, in Hermione’s case.  
  
Charlie arrived three days before Christmas having taken a week off from researching dragons. In his frustration with not being able to seduce Ron, Harry found his mind wandering towards Charlie. He was built like the twins, stocky and muscular, and he had a broad, weather-beaten face that was covered with freckles – more so than any of the other Weasleys. He was always friendly towards Harry and came across as such a placid person that Harry found it hard to believe that Charlie was as kinky as Fred and George had implied.  
  
The day after Charlie arrived, Mrs Weasley arranged to take them all out for some last-minute shopping in Diagon Alley. Charlie suggested going in the afternoon and then staying on to see the Christmas lights in Diagon Alley after dark. They all agreed, Hermione and Harry being especially keen, as they had never seen the decorations there before.  
  
But after spending a grand total of twenty minutes in Diagon Alley, Harry managed to cut his visit short by tripping over a display of Chudley Cannons paraphernalia in Quality Quidditch Supplies.  
  
He had been standing by the display when he looked up and saw Blaise on the other side of the store. Blaise licked his lips and waggled his tongue suggestively at Harry before proceeding to take a finger into his mouth and starting to suck on it. Harry was appalled: the last thing he needed was for someone else to notice the Slytherin making such an overtly sexual gesture. As he looked around nervously, Harry’s foot became caught up in a Chudley Cannons scarf that was trailing onto the floor. The next thing he knew, he was sprawled on the floor, buried under a pile of clothing, posters, and several heavy books, one of which had slammed into his ankle.  
  
He tried to stand, and his ankle gave way with a jolt of pain. Immediately, Mrs Weasley was helping him up and fussing over him. Looking across the store, Harry could see Blaise smirking.  
  
“I’ll take him back to the house and have a look at it,” Charlie offered. “We can join you later if Harry’s all right.”  
  
Harry and Charlie floo’d back to The Burrow, and as he helped Harry up the stairs to his room, Charlie explained that he had received a bit of medi-wizard training when he first started to work with dragons. A few spells and one application of Wizard Salve later, Harry’s ankle felt much better, but still quite sore.  
  
“You should rest it for at least an hour, and then we’ll see if you feel up to meeting the others,” Charlie said as he screwed the lid back onto the jar of salve. Turning round to leave, he knocked over Harry’s bag, and the last vial of potion rolled onto the floor.  
  
“What is this?” Charlie asked, holding it up to the light. He saw a label on one side and brought it closer to read it. “A.P.P. batch three. This is Fred’s writing. They haven’t got you testing something for them, have they?”  
  
Harry nodded and shifted uncomfortably in his bed. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
“Anti-Pheromone Potion,” Harry said vaguely. “It’s designed to repel girls.”  
  
“Why do I get the impression you’re not telling me everything?” Charlie said with narrowed eyes. Harry didn’t answer, but tried to muster up an innocent expression; after hearing about Charlie’s exploits, Harry felt awkward explaining. “So, there’d be no side-effects if I were to drink this?”  
  
Charlie started to unscrew the vial, and Harry jumped up with a start, wincing as his ankle caught on the blankets.  
  
“No! Don’t!” he said, panicking that Charlie was about to waste the last of the potion. Then he worried even further when he realised just how humiliating it would be if he suddenly started coming on to Charlie. Harry was sure that he would die of embarrassment.  
  
“Tell me, or I’ll drink it.”  
  
“If you take too much, it has completely the opposite effect on boys,” Harry said quickly, his eyes flicking nervously between Charlie’s face and the vial.  
  
Charlie’s raised his eyebrows, and he looked back at the vial with renewed interest. “Are you strictly a girls-only guy, or is the thought of being attracted to me really that bad?”  
  
For several moments, Harry sat on the bed speechless. What he wanted most of all was to know that the vial would be safely put away for future use with Ron. Being alone with Charlie in the house and knowing what Fred and George had said left Harry feeling quite intimidated. But if he denied his attraction, would Charlie drink the potion? Harry certainly didn’t want to take that risk.  
  
“I’m already attracted to you,” Harry admitted.  
  
Charlie sat down on the bed next to him and smiled. “So you won’t object if I kiss you?”  
  
Charlie’s face was so close now that it was very easy for Harry to lean forward and close the gap between them. Charlie’s lips were dry and slightly chapped, his kisses demanding, but not as intense as Remus’s. Their tongues slid easily against each other, and Harry moaned around Charlie’s mouth, relishing the aftertaste of chocolate cake that had been eaten at lunchtime.  
  
“Mmm,” Charlie murmured. “I haven’t had a toy like you for ages, but I’m still curious, about this potion, though.”  
  
Horrified, Harry watched as Charlie quickly removed the lid and swallowed the entire contents.  
  
“Charlie, that was my last vial!”  
  
“And what are you so concerned about?” Charlie said, chucking the vial on the floor. He sat back, gazing at Harry intently. “Did you have someone in particular you were going to test it on?”  
  
“Well, er…” Harry trailed off, smelling the first evidence that the potion was already starting to work. Charlie looked even more attractive than usual; his freckles were begging Harry to run his tongue over them, and Harry had an urge to bury his face in Charlie’s neck and inhale deeply.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter: it’s too late now,” was all that Harry could stutter before pulling Charlie close to indulge in that freckled neck.  
  
“It’s my baby brother, isn’t it,” Charlie said, tilting his head to let Harry lick across his skin. “Mmm… So if that was your _last_ vial, then that implies you had more… Why haven’t you seduced my brother before now?”  
  
“I’ve tried, but… he had nose problems…” Harry muttered while he continued to taste the delicious flesh and tried to pull Charlie’s body nearer.  
  
“Nose problems?”  
  
“He couldn’t smell… and then…other things got in the way…”  
  
To Harry’s disappointment, Charlie drew back to study him. “Other _boys_ , by any chance?”  
  
Harry had the sense to look a little sheepish. He gave a nod and then made another dive for Charlie’s neck.  
  
“Why don’t you tell me about these other boys?”  
  
“I don’t think I should,” Harry said as he latched on for a second time, running his hands across Charlie’s broad expanse of back.  
  
“Would you tell Ron?”  
  
“No!”  
  
“Why ever not? Are you ashamed by what you’ve done?”  
  
“No… Yes… Oh, I don’t know.” Harry was starting to feel frustrated; the last thing on his mind right now was conversation. He started unbuttoning Charlie’s shirt, kissing lower over the exposed skin.  
  
“So have you left any of them scarred for life?”  
  
Harry briefly thought back to all the encounters he had had so far. The only person who could be considered traumatised might be Remus, and even then he had Sirius to help make him feel better about what happened. Nothing jumped out at him, nothing that could be construed by any of them to be a particularly negative experience – except Malfoy, and he didn’t count, especially after the incident in detention. “No,” Harry said finally, moving his hands to the front of Charlie’s trousers.  
  
“Then you’ve no reason to be ashamed.”  
  
Harry started to rub Charlie’s cock through the material, pleased that Charlie was just as hard as him. “I’m still not going to tell Ron.”  
  
“Even if it came up in conversation? Would you really try to hide it from him?”  
  
At that moment in time, Harry had no inclination to try imagining having that sort of a talk with Ron; Charlie was the only thing at the forefront of his mind. Even if Ron did ask directly, Harry wasn’t sure that he’d be able to admit the truth. And how would the conversation come up anyway? All this banter was wasting valuable time, when he should be doing wonderful things with Charlie instead.  
  
“Enough conversation,” Harry insisted, pulling Charlie flat onto the bed and tugging Charlie’s shirt free.  
  
“Well, if he ever asks me outright, I won’t be scared of telling him the tru…”  
  
Harry finally succeeded silencing Charlie with a kiss. Moulding their bodies together, Harry desperately kissed and licked at Charlie’s skin, inhaling that wonderful smell. Charlie’s strong hands wound around him, and Harry started to thrust up against Charlie’s leg. All of a sudden, a sharp pain lanced through his ankle.  
  
“Ouch!” Harry said, sitting up and rubbing at it.  
  
“Here, let me sort it out.” Charlie swatted Harry’s hands out of the way. “ _Immobulus Crus_.” The spell immediately froze Harry’s leg from the knee downwards. “That should stop you from pulling it again. You might not be able to move it, but you can still feel,” Charlie added, sliding a hand up the inside of Harry’s trouser leg.  
  
“Do you like games?” Charlie asked mischievously.  
  
“Yes,” Harry said without hesitation; how could he say anything else when Charlie was hovering over him like that and smelling so irresistible?  
  
Charlie stood up and left the room, leaving Harry with a puzzled expression and feeling frustrated that Charlie was no longer within reach. A few moments later, Charlie reappeared, carrying a box.  
  
“Let’s see what takes your fancy,” Charlie said, opening the box and showing its contents to Harry. “Pick a couple.”  
  
Inside was a selection of objects, some of which Harry didn’t recognise. The first thing he pulled out was a plastic snake, and he saw Charlie’s eyes lit up immediately.  
  
“Oh, there’s a spell to go with that one; it moves rather nicely,” Charlie said with a sly smile, and Harry put the snake straight back into the box, his eyes widening. Having had an experience with a Basilisk that he’d rather forget, Harry had no desire to get intimate with any type of Snake teeth.  
  
The next object that caught his eye was a Golden Snitch, and he hesitated over this, trying to guess what could be done with it. He wasn’t too sure that he wanted to find out about that one, and so he continued to rummage. Then he saw a long piece of black cloth and thought back to the time Remus had tied him up. Harry rather liked the idea of doing that again tonight, and he certainly had no illusions that it would be him doing the tying.  
  
As he handed it across to Charlie, Harry noticed two quills that were tied together with a red ribbon. One looked like an ordinary quill; the other had a particularly long plume, and this ended about half way up the shaft. He smiled; doodling over each other could be good fun.  
  
“One of my favourites,” Charlie said, putting the box on the floor. He leant in for another kiss and pushed Harry’s t-shirt up. Harry lifted his hands obligingly, holding his arms up in the air. When Charlie reached his wrists, he pulled them forwards and began to nuzzle them under the material, kissing them softly.  
  
“Do you want to be tied up then?”  
  
“Yes,” Harry said, shivering at the memory and at the way Charlie’s lips were brushing over his skin.  
  
Charlie discarded Harry’s t-shirt, and then, instead of picking up the black cloth – as Harry had expected – Charlie used the red ribbon to tie Harry’s wrists to the head of the bed.  
  
“What’s the black one for?” Harry asked.  
  
Charlie chuckled but didn’t answer. He brought the cloth to Harry’s face, using it to cover his eyes. The fabric was obviously magical; Harry could feel it moulding to his face so that not a single speck of light could be seen from underneath the edges. One end slithered underneath his head, coming out the other side and tying itself into a knot there, fastening around Harry’s head.  
  
He couldn’t see anything. In the blackness, Charlie’s scent suddenly seemed that much more intense. Harry wanted to immerse himself in it, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything except lie there and wait for Charlie to just do _something_.  
  
Then Harry bucked at the sensation of a feather brushing across his skin, moving lightly from nipple to nipple, and then down to swirl over his navel.  
  
“These,” Charlie said, his voice now sounding richer and more velvety, “are Quick-Quotes Quills that I’ve modified.” He paused for a moment, and Harry was sure he could make out a faint sucking sound as if Charlie had placed the tip into his mouth, as Harry had so often seen Rita Skeeter do. Charlie continued, “This one has a refined tip so it doesn’t snag on the skin.”  
  
Harry then felt the hard, rounded and slightly damp end of a quill placed on his right shoulder.  
  
“Everything I say, the quill will write across your body,” Charlie said, and as he spoke, Harry could feel the quill come to life, sketching across his skin, frantically writing down Charlie’s words and leaving behind a trail of damp ink that felt cool as it dried.  
  
Charlie shifted and then there was a wet, probing tongue encircling a nipple at the same time that a calloused finger and thumb squeezed and rolled the other one, teasing them both into hard peaks.  
  
“Now it should catch just nicely…” Charlie said, and Harry cried out as the quill flicked across the tip of one sensitised nipple and then the other. “Can you imagine what it’s like to have that quill writing over other parts of your anatomy, Harry?” Charlie asked as he pulled Harry’s trousers and pants off, leaving him completely naked.  
  
A warm breath of air hit Harry’s ankle as Charlie blew across it, causing Harry to shiver.  
  
“ _Finite Incantatem_.”  
  
Harry wiggled his toes cautiously; his leg was no longer frozen in place. Feeling Charlie’s hands take hold of both legs, Harry let Charlie move them, bending them at the knees and exposing him fully.  
  
“ _Immobulus Crus_.”  
  
This time, Harry was unable to move either of his legs; Charlie had frozen them all the way up to the tops of Harry’s thighs. Harry shivered, wondering what Charlie had planned for him, and inhaled the delicious scent deeply in anticipation, wanting Charlie to do more, needing Charlie to be closer. Harry gasped as the tops of several fingers started ghosting up and down the back of his thighs, higher and lower, then higher again, but never quite touching his arse.  
  
“This second quill, Harry,” Charlie said, prompting the first quill to write its way across the top of Harry’s stomach, “doesn’t produce any ink as it writes. _Lubricans_.”  
  
Harry’s breath caught in his throat as the writing end of the quill, slick with lubricant, was placed against his entrance. Slowly, Charlie eased it further inside until Harry could feel the plume brush teasingly against his skin.  
  
“But,” Charlie continued, “it still moves just as well as the other quill – well, even better, as I’ve altered the spine, made it more flexible.”  
  
Harry cried out as the movements of the two quills mirrored each other, one now tickling below his navel, the other twitching inside of him, the occasional flick of a letter swishing it against his prostate, the plume dancing across his arse cheeks and balls.  
  
“You are adorable, trussed up like this…” Charlie breathed across his face, and Harry lifted his head in desperation to try and capture Charlie’s lips with his own. But Charlie had already moved away.  
  
The first quill wrote lower and lower, and just before it became entangled in his pubic hair, Harry felt it being lifted from his skin and then placed back down on the underside of his cock.  
  
“God, I want to fuck you, Harry,” Charlie said, triggering another incoherent noise of pleasure from Harry as the quill wrote across the sensitive skin. “Can I?”  
  
It was all Harry could do to let out a very shaky, “Please,” when the quill transcribed the last two words across his scrotum and the second quill managed to catch against his prostate once more.  
  
The first quill was removed and replaced by a hand that tugged gently on his balls before sliding up to encircle his cock. Automatically, Harry hips tried to jerk, but with his legs immobilised, he only succeeded in giving a feeble twitch.  
  
“Are you close?” Charlie asked, languidly running his tongue along Harry’s collarbone and dipping it into the hollow of his throat.  
  
“Yes,” Harry moaned, and he moaned again in frustration when the hand was abruptly moved from his cock.  
  
“We can’t have that.”  
  
He felt Charlie shift on the bed, and then the ribbon around his wrists was loosened before being pulled free.  
  
“Leave your arms where they are,” Charlie ordered, and Harry felt the ribbon being trailed down his body. “Have you played with any toys or charms, Harry?” Charlie asked, tying the ribbon firmly around the base of Harry’s cock. “Is there anything that you’ve fancied trying?”  
  
A memory of Fleur flashed up in the darkness, and Harry automatically muttered, “ _Vibratio_.”  
  
“Oh, that’s a good one,” Charlie said, and from the sound of his voice, Harry could tell that Charlie was smiling as he said it. Then Harry started when a wet finger rubbed along his slit. “I can definitely torture you with that.”  
  
Harry’s cock twitched as Charlie began to wind the ribbon around it, spiralling upwards until it was completely encased.  
  
“ _Vibratio_ ,” Charlie said, and immediately, Harry wished he hadn’t suggested the spell.  
  
He was a quivering mess. The vibrating ribbon, combined with the movements of the quill up his arse, was sending his eyes rolling back into their sockets. But because of the way Charlie had tied the ribbon at the base of his cock, there was no way Harry would be able to come. His cock throbbed heavily, feeling fit to burst.  
  
“ _Finite Incantatem_ ,” Charlie said, unfreezing Harry for a second time. “Harry, get on your hands and knees.”  
  
Harry shakily rolled over, kneeling up and trying to support himself on his hands. He was now moaning loudly with every breath he took, his mind numb from the constant intense stimulation. The first quill was placed on his back, and Charlie started muttering [nonsense](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v379/sheepybunbuns/ScanMBB.jpg) for the quills to transcribe, running his hands all over Harry, touching him everywhere, groping him, teasing him.  
  
“I wish I could smuggle you away with me to Romania. I’d lock you up in my bedroom. Get you out every night and let my imagination run wild with all the spells I could use on you and all the positions I could put you in. I would spend hours upon hours abusing your willing body.”  
  
Harry groaned loudly at Charlie’s words. He felt the quill on his back disappear, and the other one was pulled slowly from his arse. Then two slick fingers were pushed firmly up against him, and Harry pushed back, forcing them to breach his entrance. Charlie eased them all the way inside and curved the tips, adding to Harry’s stimulation and making Harry shudder.  
  
“Please…” Harry gasped, and he heard a low chuckle of laughter.  
  
Charlie shifted and insinuated himself underneath Harry. He could feel that Charlie was still wearing his shirt and trousers as the material brushed against his inner arms and thighs.  
  
“I want you to ride me,” Charlie said. He grasped Harry’s hips to lower him down to the head of his cock, and Harry pushed back, taking him all the way in.  
  
With the ribbon still vibrating around his cock, Harry was a trembling mess and he jerkily started to move, trying hard to keep himself upright and not to just collapse on top of Charlie. A hand in Harry’s hair pulled him downwards, and a mouth was crushed against his as Charlie rolled them over. Then he began to fuck Harry frantically.  
  
Charlie pounded into him, again and again, and Harry felt a hand slip between them, unwinding the still-vibrating ribbon from his cock. The ribbon was finally pulled free from the base, and Harry let out an almighty groan, grinding his hips hard against Charlie and coming hard. And then Charlie was coming, too, giving three last sharp thrusts before collapsing on top of Harry.  
  
For several minutes, the pair of them just lay there, completely still. The only noise being the sound of their heavy breathing slowly returning to normal. Still enshrouded in darkness, Harry lifted his hands to the blindfold.  
  
“Let me,” Charlie said, pushing Harry's fingers out of the way.  
  
The material slid from his face, and Harry blinked, looking up at a smiling Charlie. He grinned back and pulled Charlie down for a soft kiss.  
  
“That was great,” Harry said.  
  
“The potion seems to have had a nice effect on you.”  
  
Harry pressed his nose up against Charlie’s chest and inhaled deeply. “Mmm. You still smell wonderful.”  
  
“Why can’t you get any more from Fred and George?”  
  
“They had to send the rest to the Ministry,” Harry said before lazily running his tongue up Charlie’s throat, the skin moist and tasting of salt.  
  
“Yeah, right,” Charlie said in disbelief. He trailed his fingers absently along Harry’s arm. “I bet George has got his own secret stash. You have a look through his bag when they come – see if you can find some more to shag Ron with.”  
  
Something nagged at the back of Harry’s brain when Charlie said this, but in his blissful post-coital state, Harry was in no mood to try and work out what it was. He leant across for another kiss. “It’s not as if I’ll get a chance to get Ron on my own while I’m here, anyway. I’ll have to wait until I go back to Hogwarts for that.”  
  
“I don’t know…” Charlie said thoughtfully. “You leave it with me; I’ll come up with something.”  
  
**  
  
Harry felt decidedly awkward on Christmas day, after Remus, Sirius, Bill and Fleur had arrived. Keeping himself to himself as much as possible, Harry tried not to think about what he had done with just over half the occupants of the house. To his relief, no secrets were inadvertently revealed, but he did notice that Ron seemed to have a bee in his bonnet with Bill about something. And when Fred and George turned up at The Burrow, Harry took Charlie’s advice and hunted for more vials of the potion. Harry was pleased to find that Charlie had been right: in a side pocket of George’s bag was a solitary bottle marked “A.P.P.”  
  
The Christmas presents were handed out in the afternoon. The first present Harry opened was a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans from Ron. Then there was a book on studying for the N.E.W.T.s from Hermione, followed by inedible rock cakes from Hagrid and a red jumper with a golden snitch knitted across the front from Mrs Weasley. Sirius and Remus had bought him the latest book concerning studies on werewolves and made a point of directing him to a chapter entitled _Substances Which Adversely Affect Werewolves_. The last package was from Charlie; it contained a pair of quills identical to the ones they had used, tied with a green ribbon. Charlie had also slipped a note into the box that simply read, _Tomorrow_.  
  
Boxing Day was spent alternately lazing around and helping out with odd jobs around the house. Harry hoped that Charlie’s note meant he had an idea so Harry could get Ron alone, but Charlie didn’t say anything. By the time the evening meal was being served up, Harry was starting to feel very impatient.  
  
Despite his agitated mood, Harry was really enjoying the meal. Along with the cold meat leftovers from the day before, there were a huge selection of pickles and mustards, and Mrs Weasley also cooked the best bubble and squeak that Harry had ever tasted. So he was rather surprised when, halfway through the meal, he started feeling ill.  
  
It began off with his head feeling woozy, followed by a grumbling in his belly. Then all of a sudden he doubled up in pain and clutched at his stomach. He could taste bile at the back of his throat and stood to make a sudden dash for the bathroom, but he didn’t get the chance to even move his chair out of the way before being violently sick over the floor.  
  
Instantly, Mrs Weasley started fussing over him. He felt so embarrassed, even if it only took one swish of Mrs Weasley’s wand to clear the mess: he hated having everyone’s attention focussed on him. Their attention was quickly diverted, though, when Ron pushed his chair away from the table and also threw up on the floor; he looked awful, his skin sporting a sickly green hue. Mrs Weasley cleared up after Ron, as well, and then both Ron and Harry were being offered glasses of water.  
  
“Here, drink this,” Mrs Weasley said. “You’re both very pale.”  
  
Harry said nothing as he tried to swallow down some liquid. He still felt as if he was likely to be sick again. “I think I’d better go up to bed.”  
  
“Yes, quite right. You too, dear,” she added to Ron.  
  
Harry walked gingerly towards the stairway, hearing Ron scuffling on the floor behind him.  
  
“I’ll go up with them,” Charlie offered, “make sure they’re all right. You sit down, Mum. I’ll sort them both out.”  
  
They made their way slowly up the stairs and into the bedroom, Harry immediately curling up on his bed, watching Ron perch opposite.  
  
“I…I think I need the bathroom,” Ron suddenly announced, and he tore out of the room, nearly colliding with Charlie in the doorway.  
  
“You’ll be as right as rain in ten minutes or so,” Charlie said, sitting on the bed next to Harry. “I helped Mum cook; you and Ron had a couple of bits from a Skiving Snackbox added to your bubble and squeak.”  
  
“You did what?” Harry asked slowly. He was finding it hard to comprehend the fact that he felt like crap because of Charlie, who was looking quite blasé about it all.  
  
“You and Ron have the rest of the evening alone together. Everyone will assume that you’re sleeping it off – just don’t forget to do a silencing charm. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you tonight.”  
  
“Thanks…” Harry said before his stomach cramped once more, “I think…


	8. Chapter 8

It was hard for Harry to imagine that he’d ever feel like having sex again, let alone doing it later this evening. He vaguely watched as Charlie dug through his pocket for the antidote, and Harry swallowed it in one gulp as soon as it was offered. He noticed the turmoil in his stomach stopped immediately, and in less than a minute, he became convinced that it might yet be possible to salvage the night.  
  
Seeing Harry’s obvious relief, Charlie stood up again. “I suppose I’d better offer this to Ron before he pukes his guts out. Good luck tonight.” Charlie paused in the doorway. “Oh, and Harry, if for some reason things don’t work out between you and my brother, you know where to find me. I’m very good at giving comfort.” He waggled his eyebrows for effect.  
  
A wide grin spread across Harry’s face. He had no doubt about that. “Thanks, Charlie, for everything.”  
  
As soon as Charlie had left the room, Harry began rummaging through his bag to find the vial of Anti-Pheromone Potion he’d nicked from George. His stomach was already feeling much better, so he gulped down the potion in one go. It tasted disgusting as usual, and he was glad he’d just taken an antidote for an upset stomach.  
  
Flopping back onto his bed, Harry tried to plan out a seduction scenario in his head, but his thoughts kept being distracted by the foul taste in his mouth. No seduction plan would be successful if the smell of the potion was overpowered by the stench of his breath. Harry wandered down the hall to brush his teeth.  
  
Through the open bathroom door, he spied Ron putting away his toothbrush. Ron glanced up to see him there, and greeted him with a smile.  
  
“Did Charlie give you a potion for your stomach?” Ron asked. Harry nodded. “I feel loads better already. I wonder if it’s too early to eat again.”  
  
Harry panicked. He had to keep Ron from going back downstairs to join the others. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Ron. Charlie told me we’d need to rest for at least an hour. I wouldn’t risk it if I were you.”  
  
“All right,” Ron said as he moved back down the hall to the bedroom.  
  
Ron was already in his bed when Harry entered the room. Harry quickly cast a Locking Spell and then muttered a Silencing Charm.  
  
“I hope you don’t mind that I locked the door,” he said in response to Ron’s surprised expression. “I don’t fancy Hermione coming in here and trying work through all the possible causes of our illness.”  
  
Ron chuckled. “Knowing her, she’d probably try to convince us to puke again so that she could get a better look.”  
  
Harry pulled his jumper over his head and tossed it aside. He then removed his jeans so that he was wearing only a t-shirt and boxers. He had to get close to Ron so that he could smell the potion. Crossing the room, Harry sat carefully at the foot of Ron’s bed.  
  
“Ron,” he started, pausing to clear his throat, “since we’re both stuck here for a while, can I ask you something?”  
  
Ron sat up in his bed. “Yeah, sure.”  
  
“Have you ever thought about kissing another boy?”  
  
A blush rose from beneath Ron’s collar all the way up to his ears. “Do you mean any boy, or a particular one?”  
  
“A particular one. Me.”  
  
“I…er…well, maybe… at one point…” Ron looked away from Harry, clearly embarrassed.  
  
Harry reached out to rest his hand on Ron’s. “Because I’ve thought about kissing you a lot. Do you think we could, you know, try it – just to see what it’s like?” Harry was blushing too, and his stomach was doing flips, which he knew had nothing to do with the Skiving Snackbox or the Anti-Pheromone Potion.  
  
Ron hesitated, looking very unsure and nervous. He caught Harry’s eye and slowly nodded. “Just to see what it’s like,” he repeated.  
  
Moving rapidly, before Ron could change his mind, Harry scooted over next to him. He slipped one arm around Ron’s shoulders and used his free hand to guide Ron’s face towards his. When he gently pressed his mouth against Ron’s, Harry could feel Ron’s lower lip quiver.  
  
He broke the kiss. “It’s okay,” Harry murmured. “I’m nervous too.” Ron must have wanted to dispute the assessment that he was nervous, because he boldly captured Harry’s lips again, pulling Harry closer and deepening the kiss.  
  
God, kissing Ron was every bit as wonderful as Harry had imagined it would be, perhaps even better. Ron’s kisses were sloppy and inexperienced, like Neville’s, but Harry didn’t mind because they felt So Damn Good. Harry coaxed Ron’s tongue into his mouth and sucked on it, the way Seamus had done to him. His arm slid down Ron’s back in a gentle caress, while his free hand brushed against the back of Ron’s neck.  
  
Needing air, Ron pushed Harry away. “Bloody hell, Harry. Where’d you learn to kiss like that?”  
  
“Doesn’t matter,” replied Harry breathlessly.  
  
Harry trailed his tongue along Ron’s jawline, finding the hollow of his neck and sucking hard. Judging from the ensuing moan, Ron wouldn’t mind postponing that conversation until another time. Ron placed a tentative hand on Harry’s chest and began to move it slowly as Harry laved his throat. As his fingers drifted towards Harry’s waist, Ron’s wrist brushed the tip of Harry’s erection, which was peeking out of the gap in his boxers. Ron froze.  
  
Harry raised his head to find Ron’s eyes. “What’s wrong?”  
  
Ron swallowed. “You’re…um…hard.”  
  
A grin played at the corners of Harry’s mouth. Ron’s lap was hidden under the covers, but Harry would have bet a thousand galleons that Ron was hard, too. Harry pressed his hand down over the spot where he supposed Ron’s erection was hiding, and Ron gasped. Oh, yeah, definitely hard.  
  
“So are you. Does it freak you out?”  
  
“I don’t know – maybe. I-I’m not gay,” stammered Ron.  
  
Harry shrugged. “Do you have to limit yourself? Maybe you’re bi.” He was about to compare Ron to his brother Bill, but fortunately, Harry’s brain clamped his mouth shut just in time. “All I know is that you feel amazing, and I’d really like to know what it’s like to touch you all over.”  
  
Upon hearing Harry’s words, Ron’s prick twitched so much that it moved the covers. “Harry, I…” His voice trailed off as Harry rubbed his cock through the sheets.  
  
“Ron, we can stop this anytime you want. I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to.” In Harry’s mind, the only thing that made this promise possible was the knowledge that Charlie was close-by and willing to help him out if necessary. But knowing the effects of the potion, Harry really didn’t think it would be an issue.  
  
Ron’s reply came out more forceful than Harry had expected. “No! Don’t stop. I…I like it.”  
  
Harry stared at him for a moment, uncertain whether it was Ron or his hormones speaking. He was surprised to notice that it made a difference to him; he wasn’t doing this just to have sex with Ron. He wanted it to be the start of something much more important, and he wanted Ron to feel the same way, too. As he searched Ron’s eyes, he saw something there – something deeper than lust, and it propelled him on to the next step.  
  
Reaching down to grasp the hem of Ron’s pyjama top, Harry pulled it briskly over Ron’s head in one smooth motion and then threw it on the floor. The newly exposed skin was silky soft beneath Harry’s fingertips, with just a hint of gooseflesh on his lower arms. Harry laid a trail of kisses from Ron’s mouth down to his navel and then back up to his chest. He worried Ron’s nipple with the tip of his tongue until Ron let out a stifled moan.  
  
Ron reached down to pull Harry’s face to his lips and proceeded to snog him senseless, fully immersing himself in the experience. He wrapped his arms around Harry and slid his hands beneath Harry’s t-shirt, pulling it up as his fingers explored the Quidditch-toned muscles of Harry’s back.  
  
Irritated by the fabric constraining him, Harry tried to whip off his t-shirt, only to have it snag on his glasses. He pulled those off as well, dropping them carelessly on the floor as he hurried to get back to Ron’s lips. Harry wanted him so much that he briefly considered the possibility that Ron had taken the Anti-Pheromone potion instead of him.  
  
Harry slid under the covers, pressing against Ron and propping himself up with one elbow. He could feel the heat radiating off Ron’s skin where it touched his. “Is this all right?” he asked before leaning over to latch on to a spot just under Ron’s left earlobe.  
  
“ _Harry_...” Ron’s voice trailed off, and Harry took that to be a yes.  
  
The way Harry figured it, he had one shot to make Ron fall for him as hard as he’d fallen for Ron; this was his last vial of potion, and it didn’t sound as if Fred and George had plans to give him any more. He needed to make it so good for Ron that he wouldn’t be able to think about sex without thinking about Harry. He raced through his memories, trying to choose those things that had turned him on the most. Since they didn’t have an audience, he’d have to start with a blowjob.  
  
He raised his head to look Ron in the eye again. “Can I try something that I think you’ll really like?”  
  
“What.”  
  
“I want to suck you off.”  
  
Ron’s eyes became as big as galleons, and he hesitantly said, “Okay.”  
  
Harry began by kissing his way down Ron’s chest. Reaching up, Harry ran the palm of his hand across one of Ron’s erect nipples before catching it between his finger and thumb to tweak it a little harder. He explored Ron’s belly button with his tongue and placed open-mouthed kisses along the trail of dark red hair that disappeared under the waistband of Ron’s pyjamas. Harry swiped his tongue under the material before using his hands to stretch the elastic over Ron’s straining cock and push his pyjama pants down and off.  
  
“God, you look fantastic,” muttered Harry as he perused the length of Ron’s body. His skin was slightly ruddy, with a smattering of freckles across the shoulders and considerably more on his arms. His shoulders and chest were broad and muscular, the result of hours of weight training and Quidditch practice. His cock, dark and reddened with excitement, lay nearly flat against his abdomen. Harry licked his lips when he saw it.  
  
Harry raised himself onto his knees and leaned forward to ravage Ron’s mouth once more. Then he settled between Ron’s parted thighs, bending just low enough to slide the flat part of his tongue along the tip of Ron’s cock. It jerked at the sensation, and Harry heard a low moan escape from Ron’s mouth. He crouched lower, this time running the tip of his tongue along the shaft, and swirling it around the head several times. The salty, bitter taste of pre-come filled Harry’s mouth as he sucked, Ron getting harder with each trip of Harry’s lips up and down the length. Harry slid one hand under each thigh, coaxing Ron to bend his knees. When he did so, Harry was able to glide his fingertips across Ron’s arse and gently squeeze his sac.  
  
Ron was panting now, having nearly come undone by the enthusiastic assault on his senses. Each exhale of breath was accompanied by a simpering moan, and his body was writhing of its own accord. He spread his legs farther apart, encouraging Harry to take more. Ron’s hips thrust forward, and he was unable to keep himself from holding Harry’s head while fucking his willing mouth with wild abandon.  
  
“ _Fuck, Harry, I_ …” Ron wailed, but he couldn’t hold back long enough to get his warning out. He shot wave after wave down Harry’s throat and dissolved into a quivering mess.  
  
Harry held on as Ron rode through his aftershocks, thrilled that he’d been able to cause him to shatter like that and grateful that he hadn’t gagged in the process. When the last of Ron’s tremors had passed, Harry kissed his way back to Ron’s mouth, wanting him to taste his own essence.  
  
When he stretched out over Ron, Harry couldn’t help but roll his hips against Ron’s. He was aching for release now; the experience of pleasuring Ron had made him impossibly hard. The front of his boxers was soaked at the spot where the tip of his cock had been leaking copious amounts of pre-come.  
  
Ron wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him close. He slid one hand underneath the waistband of Harry’s boxers, blindly groping his bare arse. They both smiled when their eyes met.  
  
“You enjoyed that?” Harry asked smugly.  
  
“Bloody brilliant you are.” Ron looked like he wanted to say something else, but Harry didn’t press him. After a few more kisses he said, “Er, Harry, if you want, I guess I could, you know, do that to you.”  
  
Harry’s prick jumped, eagerly agreeing with Ron’s suggestion, but Harry had something else in mind. He was nervous about bringing this up, but being a Gryffindor, he plunged right in anyway.  
  
“Ron, do you trust me?”  
  
Ron furrowed his brows. “Of course I do. I trust you with my life – you know that.”  
  
“Then let me shag you. I—I know the idea of it is a bit intimidating at first, but it’s amazing. Really.” He worried his lower lip as he tried to read Ron’s expressionless face.  
  
“I knew you’d done it,” said Ron tersely. A fiery spark danced in Ron’s eyes that looked to Harry more like jealousy than curiosity, and he thought for a moment that Ron was going to ask who he’d done it with. When Ron didn’t, Harry kissed him again, hoping to convince him that no one else mattered.  
  
“I don’t even know what to do,” whispered Ron.  
  
Choosing to take this as a qualified yes, Harry couldn’t stop the smile that crossed his face. “All you need to do is tell me if I’m hurting you – I’ll do the rest.”  
  
“And you’ll stop if it hurts too much?”  
  
“I promise.”  
  
Ron’s nod was almost imperceptible, but Harry saw it and immediately sprang into action. He rolled out of the bed and frantically searched for his wand, finally locating it in the pocket of his discarded jeans. He yanked off his underwear and returned to Ron’s bed only to find Ron nervously eyeing his cock.  
  
“I promise,” Harry repeated firmly. “But it will be easier if you try to relax.”  
  
He bent Ron’s knees and spread his legs further apart. Then he cast the lube spell and slathered as much on his fingers as he could. With a nod from Ron, Harry slowly worked a finger into his entrance. If he could just get far enough in to find that spot…  
  
Ron’s eyes were narrowed as Harry’s digit breached his hole, a pained expression on his face. But then Harry brushed up against his prostate and a loud, low groan escaped from his lips. Harry rubbed it a second time and Ron shuddered.  
  
“Do that again,” Ron croaked.  
  
Harry wiggled his finger several times and was able to tell by the look on Ron’s face every time he touched Ron’s sensitive gland. He slid another finger inside and began to move the two in tandem, slowly thrusting them in and out, and taking care to rub the prostate.  
  
“Fuck, that’s good,” gasped Ron.  
  
Harry continued to stretch him until his fingers began to cramp and he was aching with the need to come. As he slowly eased his cock inside, he watched Ron’s face for signs of distress. Harry stilled for a moment, trying like hell not to come instantaneously. Ron was so tight around him, like Neville had been, but Harry was determined to last long enough to make this good for Ron, too. With a slight tilt of his hips, Harry began to move.  
  
Ron hooked his ankles around Harry’s back as Harry drove into him, a little harder with each thrust. Harry tried to control his movement enough to catch Ron’s prostate, but as he got closer to his orgasm, Harry’s eyes rolled back into his head and he could think of nothing but his need for release. With a muffled cry, he spilled deep inside of Ron.  
  
Sweaty and sticky and spent, Harry collapsed on Ron, still reeling from the effects of his release. He’d had a fair amount of sex, but it had never before felt like his orgasm had been ripped from his body. As soon as he could muster the energy, Harry shifted so that he could cuddle with Ron more comfortably. If sex had been as good for Ron as it had been for him, he thought, then this would definitely be the first time of many.  
  
**  
  
 _With one hand around his cock, he guided it to Ron’s opening and thrust inside with one fluid movement. There was an audible gasp as he began to move, rocking back and forth while tangling his fingers in Ron’s long wavy hair. He looked up, smiling to the audience; Sirius, Remus, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Fred, Blaise – they were all there, cheering him on as they wanked…_  
  
Ron jostled the bed and Harry awoke with a start, breathing heavily and sporting a sizable morning erection. He was disoriented from his dream, and he looked around, only to realize that he was not in his own bed, but Ron’s. So it wasn’t a dream, after all. He and Ron had shagged, and it had been every bit as wonderful as Harry imagined it would be. He couldn’t believe it had finally happened; falling asleep in Ron’s arms seemed so normal – so right. It didn’t matter to Harry anymore that there was no more potion. After taking their friendship to this new level, Harry knew it was no longer needed. He and Ron were together now.  
  
Harry saw Ron looking at him and smiled. “Morning.”  
  
“You should probably go back to your bed so that it looks like you slept in it,” Ron said coldly.  
  
Harry blinked twice. Hadn’t they spent the previous night having the most incredible sex? He breathed in deeply – yes, that was definitely the smell of sex. But there was no ‘Good morning, Harry. Did you sleep well?’ only ‘Get the hell out of my bed.’ Harry’s stomach sank as he realized that, with the potion now worn off, Ron was probably regretting that he ever let Harry shag him. He sought out Ron’s eyes, seeing only a frosty stare where there had been true affection the night before. Damn.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, Harry said quietly, “Yeah, I’ll do that.” He got out of bed, nearly stepping on his glasses as he did so. Keenly aware of his wilting erection, he hurried to find his underwear and t-shirt, hastily pulling them on before crawling into the other bed. He could feel Ron’s eyes on him, and Harry thought he should say something, but he didn’t really know what.  
  
Almost as soon as Harry left the bed, Ron got up as well and pulled on his dressing gown. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said gruffly. “See you at breakfast.” He yanked at the door handle, evidently trying to leave in a hurry, but it was still charmed shut, which made leaving a problem. Ron scooped Harry’s wand from the floor and tossed it to him. “Would you mind ending the charm?”  
  
Harry ended the spell, and Ron bolted through the door, almost as if being in the same room as Harry was painful for him. God, how had he managed to screw this up so badly? After last night, which was – in Harry’s estimation – one of the best nights of his entire life, it was devastating to think that Ron didn’t want him after all.  
  
**  
  
At breakfast, Ron sat as far away from Harry as he could. Their eyes met a couple of times, but all Harry received in exchange for his smile was a cold glare. The tension in the room was noticeable to Hermione, who kept looking from Harry to Ron and back again, wanting to ask what was wrong but afraid of getting stuck in the middle of whatever it was they were fighting about this time. Ron wolfed down his food and promptly left the room. Harry followed, leaving behind his half-eaten breakfast.  
  
“Ron, we need to talk about last night,” Harry said, following Ron into his bedroom. “It’s obviously got you very upset.”  
  
“What makes you think I’m upset?” asked Ron defensively. “I’m fine.”  
  
“Really? Well then, why do I get the impression you’re about to bite my head off?”  
  
“Give it a rest, Harry. Not everything is about you. I’m just a bit angry with myself.”  
  
Harry’s eyes locked on Ron’s. So he _was_ upset. He’d wanted to stop, but the potion made him do something he didn’t want to do, and he’d been powerless against its effects. He was angry because he wasn’t able to say no. Harry felt horrible, both for taking the potion in the first place and also for not stopping even though he’d had doubts about whether Ron really wanted him.  
  
“Look, Ron, you’re still my best mate. If it makes you feel better, we can forget all about last night – pretend it never happened. I’ll never lay another hand on you, I swear.”  
  
Harry could tell by the look in Ron’s eyes that his offer had not given Ron the comfort he’d intended. But he didn’t really know what else to do – he couldn’t take back what happened, and he didn’t want to. He cursed Fred and George under his breath for ever giving him the potion.  
  
“Oh, that’s just rich. It’s not even nine o’clock yet.” And with that obtuse comment, Ron stormed out of the room.


	9. Chapter 9

  
Author's notes: his is the final installment of Harry Potter and the Odour of the Pheromones - By Kate's Brain and Magic of Isis.  
  
If you've enjoyed our fic, please leave a comment, because we are feedback whores, plus, it gives us a chance to use the slut!Harry icon that Kate made for Sue.  


* * *

Harry wandered down the garden, pulling his coat tight around him against the chilly air. He didn’t know what he could do to make things better between him and Ron, so Harry thought that avoidance was probably the best policy for the moment. He also suspected that Hermione would want to pin him down and question him.  
  
Last night, everything had seemed so perfect. If only he had known how Ron would react, that he would be so mortified by what they had done. How could Harry repair their broken friendship? He kicked at a stone and watched as it hit an abandoned flower pot, cracking the clay and letting soil escape onto the lawn. He wished that the idea of using the potion on Ron had never occurred to him, that he hadn’t been responsible for messing with Ron’s head. If only he had played the part of the Gryffindor and told Ron outright, instead of letting his underhand Slytherin side come to the fore and relying on the effects of the potion.  
  
“Did something go wrong last night?”  
  
Harry looked round to see Charlie approaching.  
  
“Yeah. I messed up,” Harry said, and together, they meandered further away from the house. “I shouldn’t have used the potion. He…he didn’t react too well this morning.”  
  
“I noticed that much.”  
  
“He’s completely freaked out by what we did. I’ve ruined everything now.”  
  
Charlie stopped by a patch of Rhododendrons that was in the process of taking over the end of the garden.  
  
“In here,” Charlie said, and Harry followed as Charlie clambered through the outer branches. Finding a large enough piece of trunk on which they could both sit, Charlie pulled Harry down next to him.  
  
“Can I try taking your mind off of it for half an hour?” Charlie asked, and he cupped Harry’s face in his hands, pulling Harry closer for a kiss.  
  
Charlie’s kisses were no different from the other day, but this time, Harry was unable to respond with the same enthusiasm as Charlie: it only reminded him of kissing Ron. After a few minutes of light brushes of tongues and lips, Charlie pulled back, frowning at Harry in concern.  
  
“Being with Ron was much more than just sex to you, wasn’t it,” Charlie said, moving his arm around Harry and giving him a comforting squeeze. “I thought you were just after an experimental bunk-up with your best mate.”  
  
“What am I going to do? He’s really upset about it.”  
  
“Tell him about the potion.”  
  
Harry sat back in alarm, only Charlie’s arm saving him from slipping backwards onto the muddy ground. “I can’t do that: he’ll hate me even more!”  
  
“You’re acting as if you’ve screwed your friendship up for good, anyway. If you really do care about him, you should tell him the truth.”  
  
Harry began shaking his head. “I can’t… I can’t tell him what I’ve done.”  
  
“Even if it will make him feel better about himself? Let him understand why it happened. You owe him that much.”  
  
Harry thought back to the cold stare he had been greeted with that morning. He hated knowing that he was responsible. Ron had done something he didn’t want to, because of him. Only Harry was able to explain it to Ron, to take away the disgust that Ron must be feeling with himself.  
  
“I guess you’re right.” Harry knew that he might completely lose his best friend in the process, but he guessed that he had probably done that already.  
  
Charlie pulled him close for one last kiss. “You’ll always be welcome to visit me in Romania,” he said. “Come along in the summer holidays, if you like.”  
  
“Thanks, but it’s hard to think that far ahead, right now.”  
  
**  
  
As Harry climbed the stairs and stepped onto the landing, he could hear Fred and George rifling around in their room. Harry was not in the mood to deal with their innuendos, and so he softened his footsteps as he walked past the door. He froze when it suddenly opened.  
  
“And where are you sneaking off to so sneakily?” Fred asked, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into the room.  
  
“To see Ron.”  
  
“He’s not there--” George said as he rummaged through the contents of his bag.  
  
“--he went shopping with Mum earlier,” Fred said. “We noticed you two weren’t talking this morning. What’s up?”  
  
“Doesn’t matter,” Harry said vaguely. He noticed Fred and George share a knowing glance, and he hastily redirected the conversation. “What did you want me for, anyway?”  
  
“Have you seen a vial of that potion lying around?” Fred explained. “It’s like the ones we gave you, only it didn’t have a batch number.”  
  
“Er…” Harry hesitated, not wanting to admit that he had helped himself to it.  
  
“Harry, give it back,” George said with a grin. “There’s no point hoarding that one: it won’t work.”  
  
Harry frowned. He knew for a fact that George was lying. “But… but it did.”  
  
“You’ve already drunk it?” Fred asked. “When?”  
  
“Last night. And it worked.”  
  
The twins looked at each other and smirked. George started to chuckle and said, “You and Ron weren’t that ill, after all…”  
  
“You scored with ickle Ronnikins!” Fred said with a smirk. “So why is Ron in such a foul mood today?”  
  
“He only did it because of the potion, and now that it’s worn off, he’s appalled by what happened.”  
  
“Harry, that can’t be the reason,” George insisted. “That vial you took, it didn’t have any mandrake root in it – that’s what activates the stuff.”  
  
Harry glanced from one twin to the other. They didn’t seem to be winding him up, but it didn’t make sense. “Why would you keep it if it wasn’t any good?”  
  
“We were going to test it out on the gnomes,” Fred explained. “Thought it’d be amusing.”  
  
“We told you we didn’t have any more,” George added.  
  
“But I thought you had kept it for your own use,” Harry said, wondering why on earth they would persist in claiming it was a dud vial.  
  
“Why would I do that?” George asked, and Harry was surprised by his baffled expression. “I’m allergic to it; remember?”  
  
Harry could’ve kicked himself. _That’s_ what was niggling at the back of his brain when Charlie said that George must have his own secret stash. There was no reason for the twins to lie to him about this, no reason to keep any vials from him. But if the potion really didn’t work, then what was wrong with Ron?  
  
“Anyway, what did you want that one for?” Fred asked. “We thought you had a bottle left.”  
  
“I used it,” Harry said absently, still mulling over what could possibly be up with Ron.  
  
“You’ve bloody well shagged Charlie, haven’t you,” George exclaimed. Harry snapped his head up to find George looking at him shrewdly.  
  
“Nah! You haven’t!” Fred said in disbelief.  
  
“Well, who else has been here?” George said, “Ginny and Hermione and Mum—”  
  
“—would run a mile.—” Fred continued before being cut off by George.  
  
“--Bill, Fleur, Sirius and Remus—”  
  
“--only came down for one day. Charlie’s the only one who’s been staying here.” Fred looked at Harry appraisingly. “Unless… Harry, please tell me you haven’t shagged our dad!”  
  
“No!”  
  
“So, what’s Charlie like?” George asked. “Is he really as kinky as his mates made out?”  
  
Harry could feel his face heating up and betraying him. “That’s none of your business,” he said haughtily. This was not helping him to work out what to do about Ron.  
  
“Here, you didn’t go calling Ron by Charlie’s name when you were shagging him?” Fred said with a laugh. “I would’ve loved to see Ron’s face if you did that. I bet that would’ve made a pretty picture!”  
  
George started to laugh, too, and said. “It’d explain why he’s not talking to you!” He suddenly stopped laughing, his expression turning more serious. “He doesn’t know about you and me, does he? I can imagine the earache I’d get from Ron for giving a blow job to his best mate; he’d never let--”  
  
The sound of a door slamming cut George off. A wave of panic shot through Harry. What if someone had overheard their conversation? He stepped out into the corridor and was alarmed to see that the only door closed was the one to his and Ron’s bedroom.  
  
“I think Ron’s back from shopping,” Harry said. “I’d better talk to him.”  
  
His feet were like lead weights as he slowly walked closer to their room, his hand shaking as he reached for the handle. _Please don’t let Ron have heard anything_ , he thought. The door swung open. Ron looked up and glared at him.  
  
“Having a good laugh with Fred and George about me, were you?” he asked acidly.  
  
“No, Ron; it wasn’t like that. They guessed…they were only messing—”  
  
“I don’t care. Go away.”  
  
“But I don’t understand. What have I done to upset you so much?”  
  
“What is wrong with you, Harry? You not content to just turn me into another notch on your bedpost? Why can’t you leave it be? I can’t believe I gave in…. I wasn’t going to let you use me.”  
  
“Use you?” Harry repeated stunned. He couldn’t comprehend why Ron would ever think that. “I was—”  
  
“And now, not only are you discussing what we did with Fred and George, but I find out that you’ve done things with George and Charlie, as well as all those others you’ve had. I mean, fucking hell, Harry; just how many people have you been with?”  
  
Harry’s jaw dropped and he sat down heavily on his bed. Ron knew. All this time, Harry had been trying to keep his encounters a secret, but Ron knew anyway. Harry watched in a bewildered silence as Ron started to pace across the room.  
  
“Did you know that from the Hospital Wing you can see right into the thicket? The one that runs by the path into Hogsmeade,” Ron said, his face twisted into an angry scowl. “I thought you and Seamus were seeing each other on the quiet--which was fine. I didn’t have a problem with it; I was a little put out that you didn’t tell me, but I guessed you would get around to it eventually.”  
  
“Ron—”  
  
“But then there was _Malfoy_ ,” Ron said with a shudder.  
  
“What?” Harry felt positively sick now, and this time a Skiving Snackbox was anything but the reason.  
  
“Your detention. I passed Snape in the corridor and asked him where you were. He told me. He seemed really pleased that Malfoy was supervising you.”  
  
Harry could feel all the colour in his face steadily draining away. He didn’t need Ron to go on; it was obvious what had been seen.  
  
“I wanted to make sure you were all right,” Ron continued. “I guess I needn’t have worried.”  
  
“Ron, he—” Harry started to say, but he was cut off again.  
  
“I didn’t think you could top that, but then you had to go and have an affair with Bill: I saw the way you two were looking each other throughout that talk; I know you went somewhere with him afterwards. Shit, Harry. What the hell are you playing at? Fleur is such a lovely person. How could you do that to her?”  
  
“But—”  
  
“Then it was Blaise _and_ Malfoy!” Ron gave a bitter laugh. “I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt; I told myself that you’d got into a fight. But I’m not as stupid as I’d like to be.”  
  
Harry could do nothing but rest his face in his hands in mortification. How could this have gone so badly? All he had wanted from the start was Ron.  
  
“So who’s next on the list, Harry? Fred? Percy? Or have you already had them; was I the last one you needed for a full set of Weasleys?”  
  
As Ron continued to rant and rave, Harry felt his dismay gradually give way to defiance. To his surprise, Harry was actually starting to feel angry with Ron. It was okay for Ron to have sex with Harry, knowing all this, and then give him the cold shoulder the next morning, but it wasn’t okay for Harry to have had sex with other people. Sure there had been a few, but he hadn’t led any of them on: every one of them knew that Harry wasn’t interested in anything more permanent. He glanced up to see Ron staring at him hatefully. Harry couldn’t take this any longer.  
  
“How dare you stand there and judge me like this!” Ron gaped at him, completely shocked by his sudden outburst. “Yeah, so I’ve been with a few people. And you know what? I enjoyed it, Ron. All of it: George, Charlie, Seamus—”  
  
“Malfoy,” Ron interjected sullenly.  
  
“Oh yeah, because sucking off Malfoy is what I’ve always secretly yearned for,” Harry snapped back sarcastically. “He blackmailed me, Ron. I didn’t have a choice.”  
  
Ron stopped pacing and frowned. “That bastard. I’ll—”  
  
“Don’t bother,” Harry said, trying not to smile at Ron’s protective reaction: Harry didn’t want to risk him taking it the wrong way. “Malfoy got his comeuppance; I made sure of that.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter.” Harry gave a dismissive wave of his hand; he could imagine Ron’s reaction if he knew the details of what happened with Blaise.  
  
“Fine,” Ron said curtly. “What about Bill, then? Did you enjoy going behind Fleur’s back?”  
  
“She knew about it. She…” Harry trailed off; he could see that Ron didn’t believe him. Harry sighed and rubbed at his temples. The whole conversation seemed to be going nowhere. “Oh, to hell with it,” he exclaimed, getting up from the bed. “Ron, she was there; she wanted to watch us.”  
  
“She… you… bloody Nora!” Ron stuttered, his eyes wide with shock. “I don’t need to hear all this, Harry. I… It just hurts, okay? I hate it that I came so far down your list.”  
  
Harry gaped at Ron. How could he ever think that? “You couldn’t be further from the truth,” Harry said softly, stepping closer to him. “I’m sorry; I went about this all wrong. I should’ve told you ages ago that I wanted you. Don’t hate me, Ron.”  
  
Ron merely gave Harry a half-hearted shrug and said, “Look, this conversation is pointless. You got what you wanted from me; let’s just leave it at that.”  
  
“But I _didn’t_ get what I wanted. All I did was screw things up with my best friend.” Harry swallowed; he could tell that Ron was close to walking out and refusing to ever discuss it again. Potion or no potion, Harry was going to let Ron know just how much he meant to him. “Ron, last night, with you… It was special. More so than anything else I’ve done. I never saw it as just a one-night stand. Everyone else pales in comparison to you.”  
  
Ron stared at him in silence, and Harry tentatively reached over to brush the back of Ron’s hand. When Ron didn’t move his arm away, Harry continued, “If you knew what I’d done, if you expected me to let you down afterwards, why did you do those things with me?”  
  
“I don’t know; I didn’t want to. A moment of weakness, I suppose. This morning, I felt dirty because I’d let myself become just another conquest for you. I…I never wanted to be something so… insignificant.”  
  
“Ron, you are anything but. You are the only one I wan—”  
  
Harry’s words were lost against the press of Ron’s lips. Harry immediately pulled him close, wrapping his arms firmly around Ron, who stumbled on his feet, bringing them crashing down onto his bed. Harry moaned around Ron’s mouth, running his hands over Ron’s back, trying to pull him closer even though it just wasn’t possible – not clothed, anyway. He felt Ron begin to tentatively explore his body, and Harry shivered as Ron pulled his shirt free from his trousers, sliding a hand underneath, tracing fingernails across his skin. As their legs became entangled and the kiss more and more heated, Harry vowed that there would be no more secrets and no more potions, either.  
  
Neither of them heard the soft knock at the door.  
  
“Oh!”  
  
At the sound of the new voice, their kiss broke and Harry looked up in surprise, slightly out of breath, glasses askew. It was Hermione. She glanced between them, frowning at Harry.  
  
“You haven’t taken that potion again?” she asked, resting her hands on her hips. “Does Ro—”  
  
“No I haven’t,” Harry said firmly, and she stared at him suspiciously. “Hermione, do you mind? We’re busy.”  
  
Hermione pursed her lips. “I’ll talk to you later,” she said before shutting the door behind her with a click.  
  
Harry turned back to Ron, leaning down for another kiss.  
  
“What potion?” Ron asked just before their lips met. “What is she talking about, Harry?”  
  
“It’s the reason I managed to mess up so spectacularly with you.” Harry reached up and fondly ran his fingers through Ron’s hair. “I want to tell you everything, Ron. Do you think you’re ready to hear all of it?”  
  
“Yeah. I guess so.”  
  
“Well, it all started with a potion – the one I tested for Fred and George…”


End file.
